"No."
"Nor twenty?"
"No."
"Nor thirty?"
"No, nor a thousand. Cannot you see what a different thing it is? If one loses a lover one can get a hundred more just as good as, if not better than, the one lost; but if I were to lose Jack—oh, God! how can I suggest anything so awful—who could give me another brother?"
"So be it, then, since it must be that I am to play second fiddle all my life (sighing); but, Essie, you'll promise to write to me every day, won't you?"
"Certainly not."
"Every second day, then?"
"Certainly not."
"Twice a week, then?"