fter work was over,
she looked up and down King Street in the hope, almost the expectation,
of seeing him waiting for her to come. Then the expectation died away;
the hope grew fainter and fainter, like a shadow that the sun casts
upon the sundial until, at an hour before setting, it is scarcely
discernible.

Another week sped its days through. It was as the unwinding of a reel
of silk, each day a round, each round and the body of the reel grew
thinner and thinner, and the coils of silk lay wasted--entangled on
the floor.

Deep shadows settled under Sally's eyes. The disease of
love-sickness has its common symptoms, the whole world knows them;
the hungry self-interest that wears itself out into a hypochondriacal
morbidity; the perverted power of vision, the hopeless want of
philosophy; not to mention the hundred ailments of the body that beset
every single one who suffers from the complaint.

Janet watched Sally closely through it all until, as the time passed
by, even she began to think that her calculations had been at fault.

At last, one morning, there lay on the breakfast-table in the kitchen,
a little brown-paper parcel addressed to Sally. She picked it up
eagerly and the flame flickered up into her cheeks as she laid it
down again, unopened, in her lap. Janet smiled across at her, but
said nothing. When breakfast was over, she let Sally go away by
herself up to her bedroom, while she remained behind and talked to
Mrs. Hewson. Ten minutes, she gave her; then she mounted the stairs
as well. She did not knock. She walked straight into the bedroom and
there she found Sally, seated near the window, the tears coursing
down her cheeks, while she held out her wrist and stared at a woven
gold bangle that bore on it her name in diamond letters. By the side
of the empty box was a letter, well-folded, so that it could fit
within, and on the floor lay the string and the brown paper, just
as it had been torn off.

Janet stood in front of her, hands on hips, warmed with the sense
of being a prophet in her own country.

"Are you satisfied now?" she asked.

Sally looked up; the pride of the woman in the bauble blent in her
eyes with the disappointment of the woman in love.

"Isn't it lovely?" she said pathetically. "Oh, it is lovely. I've
never had anything so beautiful before. But I can't keep it. How can
I keep it?"

"Can't keep it!" exclaimed Janet. "What are you talking about? Do
you think it was given to you to