"They are too funny! Helene was furious because Sam wrote her a letter saying that he intended to marry her but had not the courage to notify her, personally, of his decision; and Helene was wild, and wrote him that he might save himself further trouble in the matter.

And they've been telephoning to each other at intervals all day, and Sam is so afraid of her that he dare not go to see her; and Helene was in tears when I saw her--and I _think_ it was because she was afraid Sam wouldn't come and resume the quarrel where she could manage it and him more satisfactorily." She threw back her head and laughed at the recollection, stroking Gladys the while: "It will come out all right, of course," she added, her eyes full of laughter; "she's been in love with Sam ever since he broke a Ming jar and almost died of fright.

But isn't it funny, Louis ?--the way people fall in love, and their various manners of informing each other!" He was trying to smile, but the gray constraint in his face made it only an effort.

Valerie pretended not to notice it, and she rattled on gaily, detailing her small budget of gossip and caressing Gladys--behaving as irresponsibly and as capriciously as though her heart were not singing a ceaseless hymn of happiness too deep, too thankful to utter by word or look.
"Dear little Rita," she exclaimed, suddenly and tenderly solemn--"I saw her the morning of the day she departed with John.

And first of all I asked about you of course--you spoiled thing!--and then I asked about John.