"
Jean found herself crying over the letter. "I am not helping at all,
Derry."
"My dear, you are."
"I am not. I am just sitting on a pink cushion, like Polly Ann---"
It was the first flash he had seen for days of her girlish petulance.
He smiled. "That sounds like the Jean of yesterday."
"Did you like the Jean of yesterday better than the Jean of to-day?"
"There is only one Jean for me--yesterday, today and forever."
* * * * * *
She stood a little away from him. "Derry, I've been thinking and
thinking--"
He put a finger under her chin and turned her face up to him. "What
have you been thinking, Jean-Joan?"
"That you must go--and I will take care of your father."
"You?"
"Yes. Why not, Derry?"
"I won't have you sacrificed."
"But you want me to be brave."
"Yes. But not burdened. I won't have it, my dear."
"But--you promised your mother. I am sure she would be glad to let me
keep your promise."
She was brave now. Braver than he knew.
"I can't see it," he said, fiercely. "I can see myself leaving you
with Emily, in your own house--to live your own life.
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