There are starving people in the world who need it, Sheilah.'
'They can have it,' said Sheilah. She shoved the plate away from her a little. 'May I be excused? I'm not hungry to-night.' She stood up.
'Why, Sheilah, there are broiled sweetbreads coming. I ordered them especially for you. And pineapple salad. All your favorite things.'
'I can't eat to-night, mother. Don't urge me.'
'Why can't you eat?'
'Just the thought of food makes me feel sick.'
'But there's no reason it should. John Sheldon says you're perfectly well physically. You mustn't allow your imagination to get the upper hand of you like this. I think it wise for you to sit down, dear, and try to eat, anyway.'
'Must I?'
'Oh, let her go, Dora,' said Sidney.
Dora looked at Sidney—just looked at him, across the dish of artificial fruit. Sheilah could feel the look as it swept past her.
'Oh, I'll stay,' she said quickly. 'I don't mind.' And she sat down.
Dora waited until she could talk to Sheilah alone before approaching the subject of Nevin Baldwin. She waited until she heard Sheilah in her room above, shoving up her windows in preparation for the night, then laid aside her sewing and went upstairs.
