"It's what I believe, anyway, with all my heart."
"I half think you're right. And do you know, Peggy Raymond, I've been acting on a very different plan. I'm going to tell you something that happened not so very long ago and see what you have to say about that."
It was the story Peggy had heard before, shorn of some of its tragedy, compressed into as few words as possible; a bald little tale, if the burning eyes of the narrator had not supplied the pathos. She sat with crossed hands as she told it, and when she had finished, looked expectantly in Peggy's direction. "Well?" she said as the other hesitated.
"Well," cried Peggy, voicing a sentiment she had expressed earlier, "somebody ought to hide. But not you."
"Then you think I've been silly."
"Yes." Peggy's smile took the edge off her bluntness.
"And cowardly?"
"You could be braver."
"Well, I've been brave enough to come down and see you, anyway." Grace laughed out, and Peggy noticed that both Elaine and her mother started nervously at the sound. "You mustn't think me familiar on short acquaintance. You see I've known you for some time, and the most popular topic of conversation in this house since we moved in has been Peggy Raymond. You don't mind my calling you Peggy?"
"I'd mind dreadfully if you called me anything else. And, by the way!" Peggy had some sensible ideas as to striking when the iron is hot. "Mayn't I bring some of the girls in to see you? They will be so interested when they know Elaine's sister has come."