"How could you make her up?" she wailed. "You could not make up a girl!"
"But she isn't a girl, sweetheart. I invented her, to make you jealous."
Suddenly Grisel broke down and their great moment was upon them. When she had cried herself into exhausted quiet in his arms he wiped her eyes on his handkerchief.
"Oh, I—I have hated her so, Oliver. But—whose was the photograph then?"
He explained.
"But Jenny talked about her, and even your mother."
"Of course, that's what mothers are for."
Suddenly she sat up and smoothed her hair. "Oh, dear me, what—what will poor John say?"
Wick stiffened. Now came the test. "What do you mean?" he asked.