Her face was hidden in her sister's shoulder, and her whole body had drooped against Joanna's side, utterly weary after three days of travel and disillusioned loneliness.
"Reckon I'm glad you've come back, dearie—and I won't ask you any more questions. I'm a cross-grained, cantankerous old thing, but you'll stop along of me a bit, won't you?"
"Yes," said Ellen, "you're all I've got in the world."
"Arthur ud take you back any day you ask it," said Joanna, thinking this a good time for mediation.
"No—no!" cried Ellen, beginning to cry again—"I won't stay if you try to make me go back to Arthur. If he had the slightest feeling for me he would let me divorce him."
"How could you?—seeing that he's been a pattern all his life."
"He needn't do anything wrong—he need only pretend to. The lawyers ud fix it up."
Ellen was getting French again. Joanna pushed her off her shoulder.
"Really, Ellen Alce, I'm ashamed of you—that you should speak such words! What upsets me most is that you don't seem to see how wrong you've done. Don't you never read your Bible any more?"
"No," sobbed Ellen.