“No doubt, you say! My sister!” Her head lifted, and there was a flame of colour in her cheeks. “My sister!” she repeated, as though she would thus make it seem more true. “Then I will go to her, Matthew West.”
She loosened the clasp of her fingers and walked forward, unseeing her surroundings, her eyes misted with tears. Straight across the room she went, her hands outstretched to where the other shrank back from her in embarrassment—between them still the gulf which love must bridge.