Sylvia went back to college early on the day after New Year’s Day, and David took her in to Boston, promising his aunt, however, that he would return to Wastewater that night. And late in the afternoon, before Sylvia went, she found an opportunity to give Gay a hint of the state of affairs.
The two girls had managed to establish a real friendliness and were merry and confidential and full of chatter together. Now Gay had asked curiously, as in an ice-cold bedroom she watched Sylvia packing her things:
“Sylvia, do you hate to go back?”
“Well, yes and no,” Sylvia said, thoughtfully. “In a way, I wish June would hurry, and in another way I want to get every scrap of sweetness out of my last college days. I shall be tremendously busy when I get home, of course, for weeks and weeks, and then it’s possible—I won’t say definitely, but it’s possible that Mamma and I may go abroad for a few months, after that. I feel as if, in a way, I owed Mamma a holiday.”
Gay’s face was radiant with sympathy.
“Oh, you will love it!” she said, enthusiastically, as she wrapped the big comforter tightly about her and curled her feet up in the big armchair. Sylvia, shuddering, blew upon her own fingers as she gave a last look about the room.
“There, everything’s in!” she said. “Do let’s get downstairs and have some tea as a celebration!” And to herself Sylvia added, “I wonder if she realizes that I don’t plan to take her with us?”
But Gay was thinking: “She can’t care for David or she wouldn’t be making plans to go away!” and in the queer, indefinable happiness that came with this conviction, she could well afford to be indifferent to her own plans for the summer.
When they were downstairs again and shuddering with cold, as the heavenly warmth of the sitting room enveloped them Sylvia said:
“I should love to give Mamma a really happy time, because—next winter—there may be changes——”