"So you think I must have had a stupid winter," said Florence, in answer to Marion's last remark.
"I am sure of it. You had much better have remained here with me."
"You are very inconsistent," laughed Florence. "Last minute you said Chicago was the dullest place you knew anything about."
"I meant dull in comparison with London or New York. It is certainly better than a place where life is made up of prayer meetings and snow banks."
"I am glad you are beginning to appreciate the advantages of your home," said Florence.
"Don't chaff me, Florence. I can't bear it. I am too nervous. I wish you had this headache for five minutes and perhaps you would feel sorrier for me."
"Why, my dear, I do feel sorry for you; isn't there anything I can do?"
"No; Dr. Maccanfrae is coming this morning and I suppose he will give me a lot of stuff, but it won't do me any good. I have taken every known medicine this winter, and I have had this headache every day for months. I can't eat anything. I can't sleep, and I am tired and bored all the time. The Doctor calls it neurasthenia, but I don't know what good it does to put such a big name to it, when he can't do me any good."
"There must be something that will help you," said Florence.
"Of course there is. If I could go somewhere else to live I know I should feel better. What I need is some new distraction, but how can I have that in this stupid town?" Then she was silent for awhile and during that time she thought of the few days last winter when a new element had come into her life only to vanish as quickly again. She thought of a ball-room, an exciting dance, and the magnetic impulse of a moment which had made life seem so sweet. Why had she resisted that temptation, she asked herself. The other course could not have made her more unhappy, and it, at least, was no more a mockery than her present life, with that love still burning fiercely to the wild accompaniment of Tzigan strains, echoing in her heart. "What is the use of being good?" she asked herself. Then she smiled a mocking answer, turned over on the lounge and buried her face in the cushions.