“Well, then, say you don’t.”
“I can’t say that positively. I wish I could.”
She rose from her seat and moved away, absently drawing the hair-pins from her coiled hair. June fell back on the pillow.
“Well, I can,” she said. “I never felt more positive about anything in my life.”
Her sister turned back to the bedside and stood there looking frowningly down.
“I hope you’re right,” she said. “I’d hate to think any man like that had ever come here to see us or been a friend of yours.”
“So would I,” said June promptly. “So would any girl.”
“Well, good night. You’re tired to death. I’ll put the gas out.”
June saw the tall white figure move to the bureau and then darkness fell, and she heard its rustling withdrawal.
She lay still for a time staring at the square of light that fell from her sister’s room through the open door. Presently this disappeared and she moved her eyes to the faint luminous line which showed the separation of the window curtains. She was still staring at it wide-eyed and motionless when it grew paler, whiter and then warmer with the new day.