“He is all to me—everything to me! Oh, Frances! If you knew, if you knew!”
“What? If I knew what?” Frances caught her arm in fierce grip, and shook her savagely.
“Don’t—don’t—hurt me, Frances!” Nola cringed and shrank away, and lifted her arms as if to ward a blow.
“What did you mean by that? Tell me—tell me!”
“Oh, the way it came to me, the way it came to me as he carried me in his arms and sang to me so I wouldn’t be afraid!” moaned Nola, her face hidden in her hands. “I never knew before what it was to care for anybody that way—I never, never knew before!”
“You can’t have this man, nor any share in him, living or dead! I gave up Major King to you; be satisfied.”
“Oh, Major King!”
“Poor shadow that he is in comparison with a man, he’ll have to serve for you. Living or dead, I tell you, this man is mine. Now go!”
Nola was shaking again with sudden gust of weeping. She had sunk to the floor at the head of the couch, a white heap, her bare arms clasping her head.
“It breaks my heart to see him die!” she moaned, rocking herself in her grief like a child.