"I had a long visit with Ruth last night," he began quietly.
She did not speak, bending forward a little more, her eyes upon him intently, anxiously.
"Edith?"
"Yes, Deane?"
He paused, then asked simply: "Edith, Ruth is very lonely. Won't you go to see her?"
She raised her chin in quick, startled way, some emotion, he did not know just what, breaking over her face.
"I thought I'd come and tell you, Edith, how lonely—how utterly lonely—Ruth is, because I felt if you understood you would want to go and see her."
Still Edith did not speak. She looked as though she were going to cry.
"Ruth's had a hard time, Edith. It's been no light life for her—you don't have to do more than look in her eyes to know that. I wish you could have heard the way she asked about you—poured out questions about you. She loves you just as she always did, Edith. She's sorrowed for you all through these years."
A tear brimmed over from Edith's blue eyes and rolled slowly—unheeded—down her cheek. His heart warmed to her and he took hope as he watched that tear.