When Nancy came in to me, she had put on her white peignoir, and she had Olaf's letter in her hand.
"Ducky," she said, and her voice shook, "I have read it twice—and—I shouldn't dare to think he was in earnest."
"Why not?"
"I should want to go, Elizabeth."
"And leave the world behind you?"
"Oh, I haven't any world. It might be different if mother were alive, or daddy. There'd be only you, Ducky, my dear, dear Ducky." She caught my hand and held it.
"And Anthony"
"Anthony would get over it"—sharply. "Wouldn't he, Elizabeth? You know he would."
"My dear, I don't know."
"But I know. If I hadn't been in his life, Mimi Sears would have been, just as Bob Needham would have been in my life if it hadn't been for Anthony. There isn't any question between Anthony and me of—one woman for one man. You know that, Elizabeth. But with Olaf—if he doesn't have me, there will be no one else—ever. He—he will go sailing on—alone"
"My dear, how do you know?"
She flung herself down beside me, a white rose, all fragrance. "I don't know"—she began to cry.
79
