screen door open as he said it.

And as she sat there thinking of how she would never hear his voice
again, he reached out his hand as if groping for something he wanted;
and when with a little sob she quickly took it he clasped her hand,
putting into it a strength that astonished her. He turned toward her
after that and the nature of his sleep changed a little; it seemed more
natural, as if there were something of peace in it. It was as if he had
turned to her, reached out his hand for her, knowing she was there and
wanting her. He was too far from life for more, but he had done what he
could. Her longing gave the little movement big meaning. Sitting there
holding the hand of her father who would never talk to her nor listen to
her again, she wanted as she had never wanted before to tell her story.
She had been a long time away; she had had a hard time. She wanted to
tell him about it, wanted to try and make him understand how it had all
happened. She wanted to tell him how homesick she had been and how she
had always loved them all. It seemed if she could just make him know
what it was she had felt, and what she had gone through, he would be
sorry for her and love her as he used to.

Someone had come into the room; she did not turn at once, trying to make
her blurred eyes clear. When she looked around she saw her sister
Harriett. Her father had relaxed his hold on her hand and so she rose
and turned to her sister.

"Well, Ruth," said Harriett, in an uncertain tone. Then she kissed her.
The kiss, too, was uncertain, as if she had not known what to do about
it, but had decided in its favor. But she had kissed her. Again that
hunger to be taken in made much of little. She stood there struggling to
hold back the sobs. If only Harriett would put her arms around her and
really kiss her!

But Harriett continued to stand there uncertainly. Then she moved, as if
embarrassed. And then she spoke. "Did you have a--comfortable trip?" she
asked.

The struggle with sobs was over. Ruth took a step back from her sister.
It was a perfectly controlled voice which answered: "Yes, Harriett, my
trip was comfortable--thank you."

Harriett flushed and still stood there uncertainly. Then, "Did the town
look natural?" she asked, diffidently this time.

But Ruth did not say whether the town had looked natural or not. She had
noticed something. In a little while Harriett would have another baby.
And she had not known about it! Harriett,