"Ulick—"
"Still less of him. You have come here, sent by Owen Asher or by
Ulick Dean—which is it?"
"My dear Evelyn, I came here because we have always been friends and for old friendship's sake—by nobody."
These words seemed to reassure her, and she sat down by her friend, saying that if Louise only knew the trouble she had been through.
"But all that is forgotten… if it can be forgotten. Do you know if our sins are ever forgotten, Louise?"
"Sins, Evelyn? What sins? The sin of liking one man a little better than another?"
"That is exactly it, Louise. The sin and the shame are in just what you have said—liking one man better than another. But I wish, Louise, you wouldn't speak to me of these things, for I'll have to get up and go back to the convent."
"Well, Evelyn, let us talk about the white clouds going by, and how beautiful the wood is when the sun is shining, flecking the ground with spots of light; birds are singing in the branches, and that thrush! I have never heard a better one." Louise walked a little way. Returning to Evelyn quickly, she said, "There are all kinds of birds here—linnets, robins, yes, and a blackbird. A fine contralto!"
"But why, Louise, do you begin to talk about clouds and birds?"
"Well, dear, because you won't talk about our friends."