"I can't!"

But a little miracle happened. For Susette, who was only three years
old and understood nothing of all this, took half the purple asters from
Amy's grave, and turning back confidingly she put the rest in Ethel's
hand--and then saw a sparrow and chased it, and laughed merrily as it
flew away.

At night when Joe came home, although he did not speak of the flowers,
she knew that he too had been at the grave. He appeared relieved, the
tension gone.

"Now is the time to speak of her." And Ethel looked up with a resolute
frown. . . . But once again she put it off. Soon they were talking
naturally.

Weeks passed, and the memory of that day dropped swiftly back behind
them. And there came a night when Joe, close by her side, had been
talking slowly for some time, his voice husky, strained and low, and she
had been sitting very still. She turned at last with a quick little
smile, said:

"Yes, Joe, I'll--marry you--and--oh, I'm very happy! Please go now,
dear! Please go--go!"

And when he had gone she still sat very still.

From that night the name of her sister was not spoken between them--was
not spoken for nearly two years.

She grew used to being held in Joe's arms, to his kisses and to his
voice that had changed, to the things he said and the way his eyes
looked into hers. That hunger, it was always there, and growing, always
growing! The feeling she'd never had before, that--"We're to be parts
of one another!"--deepened, thrilled her with its depth, dazzled and
confused her mind.

One day she went to Amy's room, and slowly began looking over the
clothes. From the closet and the drawers, in a careful, tender way she
took the shimmering little gowns and dainty hats and slippers, silk
stockings, filmy night-gowns--and packed them into boxes. All were to
be given away. "I couldn't!" Her throat contracting, she turned away
with a sharp pang of pity and of jealousy and of a deep, deep
tenderness.

She lavished her love upon Amy's child. What adorable little garments
she bought for Susette, those autumn days. And at night, bending over
her cradle, Ethel would whisper to her, "Oh, I'm dreaming, dreaming,
dear!" And to Susette this was a huge joke, and they would laugh at it
like mad. "Oh, my precious loved one! What a fine, happy life we'll
lead!"

CHAPTER IX

They were married early in December. There were no preparations to be
made, for a wedding is nothing without friends, and they had none b