Mary had a bad time of it the next few weeks.

More than once her face seemed turned toward the Valley of the Shadow.

But gradually health and strength returned, although it wasn't until April that she was anything like herself again.
She liked to sit--sometimes for hours at a time--reading, thinking, dreaming--and when she was strong enough to go outside she would walk among the flowers, and look at the birds and the budding trees, and draw deep breaths as she watched the glory of the sunset appearing and disappearing in the western sky.
Helen occasionally walked and sat with her--but not often.

Helen's time was being more and more taken up by the younger set at the Country Club.
She came home late, humming snatches of the latest dances and talking of the conquests she had made, telling Mary of the men who would dance with no one else, of the compliments they had paid her, of the things they had told her, of the competition to bring her home.

One night, it appears, they had an old-fashioned country party at the club, and Helen was in high glee at the number of letters she had received in the game of post office.
"You mean to say they all kissed you ?" asked Mary.
"You bet they did! Good and hard! That's what they were there for!" Mary thought that over.
"It doesn't sound nice to me, somehow," she said at last.