“Nonsense, precious!”
“Yes, I could. Sometimes I imagine how jealous I could be, and it frightens me.”
“You must not imagine such things, dear.”
“I have always imagined things,” said Evelyn. Her face took on a very serious, almost weird and tragic expression. Maria had as she had often had before, a glimpse of dangerous depths of emotion in her sister's character.
“That is no reason why you should always imagine,” she said, with a little, weary sigh.
Directly the look of loving solicitude appeared on Evelyn's face. She went close to her sister, and laid her soft, glowing cheek against hers.
“I am so sorry, dearest,” she said. “Sorry for whatever troubles you.”
“What makes you think anything troubles me?”
“You seem to me as if something troubled you.”
“Nothing does,” said Maria. She pushed Evelyn gently away and sat up. “I was only tired out,” she said, firmly. “The breakfast has made me feel better. I will get up now and write some letters.”