"Yes," said Miranda, at their door.
"Yes, and it's not just all our bazaar money that's in her, nor all our toil--"
"Nor all your sufferings," interrupted Miranda, as Constance wonderingly let them in.
"Oh, nor yours! nor Connie's! nor all--his; nor our whole past of the last two interminable years; but this whole poor terrified city's fate, and, for all we know, the war's final issue! And so I--Here, Con," (handing a newspaper), "from Steve, husband."
(Behind the speaker Miranda, to Constance, made eager hand and lip motions not to open it there.)
"And so, 'Ran, I wish we could go ashore to-morrow, as far down the bay as we can make our usefulness an excuse, and stay!--day and night!--till--!" She waved both hands.
Constance stared: "Why, Nan Callender!"
"Now, Con, hush. You and Steve Second are non-combatants! Oh, 'Randa, let's do it! For if those ships--some of them the same we knew so well and so terribly at home--if they come I--whatever happens--I want to see it!"