my letters? You saw her in New York after I left?"
"The old fool has shipped as stewardess on a slow ship sailing to Calcutta. The Lord knows where she is by this time. Married to a Chinee, more than likely. I went to the studio and got my things. You know everything there belonged to me," she added a little fiercely. "I never got a real divorce from my husband."
"I never thought—I guess there wasn't much left there, 'cause I had to sell so much to keep things going when Daddy was sick."
"Oh, don't talk about it. Didn't you just hear me say I couldn't bear sick folks?"
"No, I won't mention it, but Mamma—I can't help calling you Mamma—do you know what became of the trunk full of letters that belonged to my own father?"
"Sure! I sent them to storage with all the other junk. More fool me, too! No doubt the storage bill will be more than the stuff is worth. I always was a sentimentalist, though, and I couldn't bear to part with the things."
"Oh, Mamma, could you send the trunk to me here in Virginia? I want you to meet Mr. Philip Bolling. He is my neighbor and the best friend I have here," she exclaimed as Philip stepped forward.
