"I always have," came the dragging confession.
"Then, for heaven's sake, tell him so! I'll bet he loves you fast enough! Land alive, if you've got Love in your grasp, don't turn it down! Love is the greatest thing in the world, and if you throw it away, you'll never have any luck the rest of your life. And you won't deserve any either."
Hazel drew out a damp ball of a handkerchief and blew her nose vigorously. "It's no use," she told her friend with a catch in her voice. "I couldn't tell him. I just couldn't."
Sally Jane flung up her hands. "You're a coward, that's what you are. A moral coward. If I loved a man, which I don't, I'd tell him so, that is, providing he didn't tell me first," she added thoughtfully.
Hazel stooped to pick up a fallen chemise. "You're—you're different, Sally Jane. Besides, he doesn't love me any more. So it wouldn't do any good."
"Oh, no, of course not," Sally Jane waxed sarcastic. "And they say all mules are quadrupeds! Look here, Hazel, if it hadn't been for him, you'd be in a fine fix right now. Why, that Rale man— Oh, you make me so mad I could shake you! I've told you more'n once how much you owe Bill. Look how he fought for you. Look— Oh, Lord! Haven't you got any gratitude at all?"
"Plenty," Hazel replied over her shoulder. "But my gratitude can't make him love me."
Sally Jane put her hand on her friend's shoulders and turned her around. "I tell you, you're making a mistake. I tell you he does love you. You remember that last winter he came here several times, and he certainly didn't come to see me or Dad. And you weren't overly cordial, you know, Hazel. You didn't fall on his neck exactly."
"I'm not going to throw myself at any man's head!"
"Oh, don't be so high-strung! You're too proud for any human use! And Bill's just like you, the stiff-necked lollop!"