"Splendid! Frank's a handsome boy."
"Isn't he?" sighed Jean.
"He'll always be constant to anyone he cares for. And, I think—he does care for someone."
"What makes you think so?" demanded Jean, her blue eyes suddenly intent on Margaret.
"What makes you think so?" Margaret parried.
Jean sat up instantly very straight and stiff.
"Who said I thought anything?"
"Oh, no, no!" Margaret disclaimed hastily. "I didn't mean that. I meant anyone would think so!"
Jean lapsed into a placated limpness, resting her lithe young figure in its summer blue against the dingy house-wall.
"Isn't it funny," she mused, "how you can resolve you won't think, and keep yourself from thinking, and really not think, because you've made up your mind you wouldn't—and all the time you know!"