“I don’t wonder you are getting tired of it.”
“Tired of it! Oh, Helen, I wish you could get as much joy out of anything as I do out of this work. Tired of it!” Inez laughed aloud at the absurdity of the suggestion. Then she grew serious again. “I know I ought to leave it, yet I cannot force myself to make the break.”
“I don’t think I understand,” said Helen, quietly, watching intently the struggle through which the girl was passing.
“I know you don’t, and I don’t believe I could make any one understand it,” replied Inez, helplessly.
“You talk about it in this mysterious way just as Jack does,” continued Helen. “There must be some sort of spell about it, for you both are changed beings since your first visit to the library.”
“Then you have noticed it?” Inez looked up anxiously.
“Of course I have noticed it,” admitted Helen, frankly. “How could I help it when you yourself feel it so strongly?”
“Do you blame me for it?”
“Why should I blame you, Inez? Is there any reason why I should blame any one?”
“No, except that the work takes your husband away from you so much.”