"I've been trying to get rid of Wilfrid Marston for the last three weeks."
She had such wisdom, mothered by fierce necessity, as comes to the foolish at their call. She was standing over little Jane as she spoke, looking down into her pure, uplifted eyes.
"You've been crying," she said.
"Yes." Jane's eyes were very bright, new-washed with tears.
"I know why. It's because of me."
"Yes; but it's all right now, Kitty."
She did not tell her that ten minutes ago she, too, had been out on the Cliff-side and had had a battle with herself there, and had won it. For little Jane there couldn't be a harder thing in the world than to give Robert up. Of course she had to do it, so there could be no virtue in that. The hard thing was to do it gracefully, beautifully.
"What are you going to say to me, Janey? He told you?"
"Yes; he told me."
"Oh, don't look at me like that, dear. Say if you hate it for him."