"
"You may ask me anything you like, of course, Cousin Anna. As for
Parker Stanford, he's nothing more than the rest of the men I know,
only he's been more polite. We are very good friends."
"No more?"
"No more; and we never shall be."
"But he surely wished to be?" The day had darkened until the room was
lighted only by the flames of the soft coal fire which sputtered in the
grate. The cousins could hardly see each other's faces; but in the dim
light Berenice turned frankly toward Mrs. Frostwinch.
"That is all over now," responded she. "Of course to anybody else I
shouldn't own that there ever was anything; but whatever there may have
been is ended. He understands that perfectly."
For some minutes Berenice sat smoothing the invalid's hand, the
firelight glancing on her face and hair.
"How pretty you are, Bee," Mrs. Frostwinch said at length. Then without
pause she added: "Is there anybody else?"
Bee sank backward into the shadow with a quick, instinctive movement,
dropping the hand she held.
"Who should there be?" she returned.
Her cousin laughed softly.
"You are as transparent as glass," she said.
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