"Sometimes I have a feeling—a premonition—like that night, don't you remember, when I was so blue? I knew that I was going to change. But usually I can't tell. She has come lately, about two days in the seven, but irregularly. It's almost always after a deep, heavy sleep. You remember how late she used to lie abed? That's what worries me now. I'm absolutely exhausted, and if I do fall asleep, I'll go down deep. So deep, I'm afraid, that I'll change. Can you think what a horror that is to me? I must stay up till Leah comes. You must promise to keep me awake by every means in your power. But even then, what are we going to do? How can we arrange a way for Leah to get along with her?"
"That's where I come into the game," I said. "I think I can solve that problem."
"How did you get on with her?" Joy asked timidly. It was quite as if she were asking about another woman, and feared to commit an impertinence. "Do you like her?" she added.
"She's not to be compared to you, of course. But there's much that's likable about her, and at least, we get on beautifully. And so we shall this time, if she'll only let me stay. That's the difficulty."
"Oh, she'll let you stay, she'll be only too glad. She likes you, Leah says." Her brows drew together, and I wondered how much she knew.
"Well, then, I'll undertake to make her keep Leah."
"Oh, if you can do that—on any terms—we can stand it, both of us. Leah will suffer anything, I'm sure, rather than leave me."
"One thing more, then—since I must have all the information if I am to do anything—what does she know?"
"About me? Nothing, I think. At least she has never been told, I mean—we've always kept it from her. She thinks she's the only one."
"I don't see how that can be possible!"