o far apart....
Your life--your wonderful life----"

"Now, Sarah Farraday," her friend pounced upon her, "after the miles upon
miles of letters I've written you, do you dare to feel that you don't know
as much about my life as I do? Viper-that-bites-the-hand-that-writes-to-it!
Why, I could have done another playlet--two--in the time I've taken to
tell you everything!"

"You've been marvelous about letters," Sarah admitted with a grateful
sniff, "but----"

"And what's more--and this admits of no argument--next winter you're
coming down to me for a month of giddy gamboling and to soak your soul in
symphonies and operas!"

Sarah Farraday gave a little gasp and her thin cheeks flushed. "Oh, my
dear, you're a lamb to think of it, but of course I couldn't. It's
wonderful, just even to _think_ about it, but it couldn't possibly
happen."

"Why not?"

"Because," said Sarah, doggedly, "it's much too good to be true."

"Now that," said Jane sternly, "is a wicked and immoral remark! There is
nothing too good to be true, and it's blasphemy to say so."

"Oh, well ... of course, with _you_--" She left her sentence trailing
and let her thin hands fall in her lap limply, palm upward and stared at
Jane. Her dark hair was shimmering and floating about her and her dark
eyes were pools of light. "Janey," she leaned toward her and spoke
wistfully, "are you really as impossibly happy as you look?"

"Happier," said Jane, promptly. She began to brush her dusky mane with
long and sweeping strokes. "Still doing this a hundred and twenty times a
night, Sally, no matter at what scandalous hour I come in."

But the other persisted with sudden sapience. "I mean, are you really as
happy as you act, or are you just--gay?"

"Both," said Jane, stoutly. ("Sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four--) I've
had a bright and shining time, work and play, with my feet very much on
the earth,--or the pavements, rather. I'm satisfied, Sally."

"But oh," said Sarah, forlornly, "you said you wouldn't be really 'going
away' from us, but you have! Millions of miles away--a whole world away,
Jane! You've proved your point,--succeeded beyond our wildest dreams----"

"Not beyond _my_ wildest dreams, old dear," said her best friend with
happy impudence. "You were more modest for me than I was for myself!"

"--beyond our wildest dreams," Sarah repeated stubbornly, "and you can
carry on your work just as well here, now, and wouldn't it be the
loveliest, most natu