“How are you, Molly, dear?”
“Oh, I’m much better,” replied Molly, cheerfully. “I shall be up by to-morrow, the doctor says, and I expect to go back to Queen’s Sunday.”
Mary sat down and drew her chair up close to the little white bed.
“It’s almost providential my being in the hospital like this,” went on Molly, “it’s rested me so. You see, I was terribly worried about something when I came here.”
“And you aren’t worried any longer?”
“No; I’ve conquered it. I know it’s got to be faced; but I believe there will be a way out of it, and I’m not frightened any more. I have always had a kind of blind faith like that when things look very black.”
“You are talking of the emerald ring, aren’t you, Molly?”
“Yes, Mary. I know it hasn’t been found, of course. I can tell that by the girls’ faces, and I know that Judith Blount is—well, she is your friend, Mary——”
“Oh, no; not now,” put in Mary. “We’ve had a—er—difference of opinion that has—well, not to put too fine a point on it, broken up our friendship. I always admired her, without ever really liking her.”
Molly looked at Mary and a very tender expression came into her heavenly blue eyes.