You, gentle sprite, whom love alone can kill ...
“Jasper Crosby never killed her with love,” Pauline said bitterly. “I only hope——”
“Don’t say it, Pauline!”
She looked sorry. “I won’t say anything more. We’ll just keep on hoping.”
Five o’clock came and Judy closed her desk with a sigh.
“We’ve worked hard,” she said to Pauline, “but I just feel as if another day has been wasted. While we sit here who knows what may be happening to Irene?”
“At least we know that beastly uncle of hers can’t be hurting her any more.”
Judy thought of Pauline’s statement in connection with death—not to be hurt any more. Old people wanted that kind of peace, that freedom from pain and fear. Death could be kind to old people who were through with romance and adventure. But Irene had so much to live for.
“The boys must be there ahead of us,” Judy remarked as she and Pauline came in sight of the house. “See, someone has raised the window.”
“They probably burnt something,” Pauline said shortly.