Janet looked at her with curiosity, her eyes narrowed, judging the tone of the words rather than the words themselves, as if they were subject for her brush.
"How did he take it?" she asked, gaining time for the maturity of her judgment.
"I feel awfully sorry for him. He went out again when I came in."
"Takes it badly, then?"
"I'm afraid so."
"You're sorry for him?"
"Yes."
"Why? You haven't thrown him over. He's taken his chance—he'll get over it. You're very soft-hearted. It's all in the game. You'll have to take your chance as well, and no one'll be sorry for you if you come worst out of it."
Sally looked at her thoughtfully. "I don't believe you've got a heart, Janet," she said.
"Don't you?"