Elizabeth came home shortly before Christmas, undeniably glad to be back

and very gentle with them all. She set to work almost immediately on the

gifts, wrapping them and tying them with methodical exactness, sticking

a tiny sprig of holly through the ribbon bow, and writing cards with

neatness and care. She hung up wreaths and decorated the house, and

when she was through with her work she went to her room and sat with her

hands folded, not thinking. She did not think any more.

Wallie had sent her a flexible diamond bracelet as a Christmas gift and

it lay on her table in its box. She was very grateful, but she had not

put it on.

On the morning before Christmas Nina came in, her arms full of packages,

and her eyes shining and a little frightened. She had some news for

them. She hadn't been so keen about it, at first, but Leslie was like a

madman. He was so pleased that he was ordering her that sable cape she

had wanted so. He was like a different man. And it would be July.

Elizabeth kissed her. It seemed very unreal, like everything else. She

wondered why Leslie should be so excited, or her mother crying. She

wondered if there was something strange about her, that it should see so

small and unimportant. But then, what was important? That one got up

in the morning, and ate at intervals, and went to bed at night? That

children came, and had to be fed and washed and tended, and cried a

great deal, and were sick now and then?

She wished she could feel something, could think it vital whether Nina

should choose pink or blue for her layette, and how far she should

walk each day, and if the chauffeur drove the car carefully enough.

She wished she cared whether it was going to rain to-morrow or not, or

whether some one was coming, or not coming. And she wished terribly that

she could care for Wallie, or get over the feeling that she had saved

her pride at a cost to him she would not contemplate.

After a time she went upstairs and put on the bracelet. And late in the

afternoon she went out and bought some wool, to make an afghan. It eased

her conscience toward Nina. She commenced it that evening while she

waited for Wallie, and she wondered if some time she would be making an

afghan for a coming child of her own. Hers and Wallace Sayre's.

Suddenly she knew she would never marry him. She faced the future, with

all that it implied, and she knew she could not do it. It was horrible

that she had even contemplated it. It would be terrible to tell Wallie,

but not as terrible as the other thing. She saw herself then with the

same clearness with which she had judged Dick. She too, leaving her

havoc of wrecked lives behind her; she too going along her headstrong

way, raising hopes not to be fulfilled, and passing on. She too.




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