Ellen changed, during the week, so noticeably that Di commented: "Your father certainly is good for you." Partly it was an effect of his presence and the prospect of his return, with his ship, every fortnight throughout the summer, but chiefly it was a consequence of her admission that she loved. She had cleared away conflicts in herself by declaring it; but she had made her dependence on Jay only more complete.
She dwelt on his promise to her: "I'll be back," after he had told her that he expected his wife would not return here. Then Ellen came upon an account of his social doings in New York; for that was news.
Lida Haige and Jay Rountree had run away and married and, after a few weeks, had separated, the New York correspondent recalled, but now they were reunited. He had "rushed" to the seaboard to meet her and she had abandoned her friends at Caracas "to hurry home to him." So now they were reunited; they were appearing everywhere together. What did it mean?
Ellen at night sat on the low seat before her dresser, brushing her hair; she kept at it, not looking in her mirror, feeling the draw of the brush. Di stepped behind her, gathered up her hair, suddenly slipped the kimono from Ellen's shoulder and bared the white, smooth skin over which Di let drop in a shower the lovely, chestnut hair.
