“Come,” he said, kindly. “Come home with me now and see Minnie. Perhaps she’ll have something to say to you.”
“I couldn’t. I couldn’t speak to Minnie.”
“I’m sure you could,” he answered. “I wish you’d try. Give her a chance to explain. Perhaps there’s a misunderstanding. And even if there isn’t, you’re ... I’m sure you’re able to come. Please!”
She got up with a sigh.
“I might as well,” she said, “one can’t go on forever being cynical. It’s all over, long ago.”
They went out together on to the Main Street, busier, more prosperous now, but still familiar to her. She walked by his side, with her fine, free stride, so very different from Minnie’s anxious bobbing. They passed the Eagle House and turned the corner.
“Oh!” cried Mr. Petersen, suddenly. “There’s a piece of good news too. Your brother is with us.”
“I haven’t any brother,” said Frances.
“Your brother who was in England.”
“But I never had a brother!”