Don't let's open anything.

At any rate, not for a long time." "But--but it seems so weak," said Josephine, breaking down.
"But why not be weak for once, Jug ?" argued Constantia, whispering quite fiercely.

"If it is weak." And her pale stare flew from the locked writing-table--so safe--to the huge glittering wardrobe, and she began to breathe in a queer, panting away.

"Why shouldn't we be weak for once in our lives, Jug?
It's quite excusable.

Let's be weak--be weak, Jug.
It's much nicer to be weak than to be strong." And then she did one of those amazingly bold things that she'd done about twice before in their lives: she marched over to the wardrobe, turned the key, and took it out of the lock.