Lena wriggled a little closer. "You beautiful thing! Imagine your knowing that. But don't you know that some people are never strangers? And when mother brought you in just now I felt that I had known you for years. You must love mother and me, Margaret. People always do; we understand so well."
"You don't—you can't—or you would not have spoken as you did before those strangers."
"Didn't you hear what I said? I am one of those people who think that everything we do and feel should be spread out under the light of heaven. There should be no dark corners or secret places in our lives."
"But why did you say that my father and your mother were lovers once? I didn't want to know that he had ever cared for any one but my own dear mother." Margaret was indignant still.
Lena looked at her with a bewildered smile. "How sweet you are, and how unspoiled by the world," she said. "I wish I could come and live on your farm, dear. Tell me about your mother."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"I shouldn't like to talk about her to any one I don't know."
"Do you love her very much?"
"I love her with all my heart. That is why—"