These two, who had led lives so happy,
so protected, so rich, sat there silent before the possibilities which
lay in the love of a girl; until at last both sighed, whether with
regret or tenderness perhaps they could not themselves have told.
Perhaps both remembered their youthful days; remembered how one had
lost her first love by death and the other parted from hers in anger,
making a marriage which seemed more a matter of affronting the man
discarded than of affection for the man she chose. They knew each
other's history so completely that there could be no disguise between
them. Their eyes met, and for an instant there was a suspicion of
wistfulness in the glance. Then Mrs. Frostwinch shook her head, and
smiled sadly.
"At least," she said, "I shall be spared the pain of growing old."
"After all," the other responded, "the bitterness of growing old is to
feel that one has never completely been young."
The sick woman regarded her with burning eyes.
"But we have been young, Di," she said eagerly. "Surely we had all that
there was."
"Anna," Mrs. Staggchase murmured, leaning toward her, "we know each
other too well not to say things that most women are afraid to say.
Pages:
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463