“She’s probably learning to bear it better—that’s all.”
“She’s never worn an engagement ring, has she?” asked the practical Vivian.
“No, but of course she wouldn’t wear it here. It would excite too much comment,” Priscilla explained.
“Without doubt she had one, and wore it around her neck, before it happened,” Lucile again suggested.
“Oh, if we could only show her in some way that we’re sorry for her! That would, perhaps, help a little,” said Virginia. “Do you suppose she’d feel we were interfering if we sent her some flowers? We needn’t say a thing, but just write ‘With sympathy’ or ‘With love’ on a card, and she’d understand. Do you think she’d like it, Priscilla?”
“Why, yes, I think she would. And ’twould relieve our minds. We’d know we’d done all we could. I suppose time will make it easier for her to bear.”
“Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding, and they’ll come together again, when they see they can’t live without each other,” said Vivian hopefully.
“Maybe, but I feel that it’s the end! And oh, if you girls could only have seen them together and known that they were made for each other! Fate is cruel!” wailed Lucile tragically.
“Well, are we going to send the flowers?” asked Virginia. She was aching for Miss Wallace, but Lucile’s romantic ravings were a little tiring. “If we do, let’s not say a word to any one. Miss Wallace, being in The Hermitage, belongs to us more anyway; and I think we ought to love her enough to guard her secret. I know she wouldn’t wish it known. Of course, as things have happened, we can’t help knowing, but we can help talking about it to others. You haven’t told any one else, have you, Lucile?”
“Of course not. Don’t you suppose I know better than all of you that life would be simply impossible to her if she thought the world knew. Remember, I’ve seen them together!”