Ellen stared at her in amazement, alarm, and some sympathy.
"I'm driving in to tell Edward Huxtable about it this morning. Not that I trust him, after the mess he made of my case; howsumever, I can look after him in this business, and the auctioneer, too."
"But, my dear, I thought you said you'd plenty of money to meet your losses."
"So I have. That's not why I'm selling."
"Then why on earth ..."
The colour mounted to Joanna's face. She looked at her sister's delicate, thoughtful face, with its air of quiet happiness. The room was full of sunshine, and Ellen was all in white.
"Ellen, I'm going to tell you something ... because you're my sister. And I trust you not to let another living soul know what I've told you. As I kept your secret four years ago, so now you can keep mine."
Ellen's face lost a little of its repose—suddenly, for a moment, she looked like the Ellen of "four years ago."
"Really, Joanna, you might refrain from raking up the past."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to rake up nothing. I've no right—seeing as what I want to tell you is that I'm just the same as you."