A shiver slid down inside her. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. They had cried a little, both. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. Only now it does not matter at all because Joan has come and has seen me. “No,” she answered. ‘It needs not that you tell me. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words. 150 “Homely. My wife doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand now.
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