"No--no, I haven't anybody in the world. That is why I hate vacation,
that is why I've hated to hear you and the others discussing your
vacation plans. You all have somebody to go to. It has just filled me
up with hatred of my life."

Miss Channing swallowed her honest horror at such a state of feeling.

"Constance, tell me about yourself. I've often wanted to ask you, but
I was always a little afraid to. You seem so reserved and--and, as if
you didn't want to be asked about yourself."

"I know it. I know I'm stiff and hateful, and that nobody likes me,
and that it is all my own fault. No, never mind trying to smooth it
over, Miss Channing. It's the truth, and it hurts me, but I can't help
it. I'm getting more bitter and pessimistic and unwholesome every day
of my life. Sometimes it seems as if I hated all the world because I'm
so lonely in it. I'm nobody. My mother died when I was born--and
Father--oh, I don't know. One can't say anything against one's father,
Miss Channing. But I had a hard childhood--or rather, I didn't have
any childhood at all. We were always moving about. We didn't seem to
have any friends at all. My mother might have had relatives
somewhere, but I never heard of any. I don't even know where her home
was. Father never would talk of her. He died two years ago, and since
then I've been absolutely alone."

"Oh, you poor girl," said Miss Channing softly.

"I want friends," went on Constance, seeming to take a pleasure in
open confession now that her tongue was loosed. "I've always just
longed for somebody belonging to me to love. I don't love anybody,
Miss Channing, and when a girl is in that state, she is all wrong. She
gets hard and bitter and resentful--I have, anyway. I struggled
against it at first, but it has been too much for me. It poisons
everything. There is nobody to care anything about me, whether I live
or die."

"Oh, yes, there is One," said Miss Channing gently. "God cares,
Constance."

Constance gave a disagreeable little laugh.

"That sounds like Miss Williams--she is so religious. God doesn't mean
anything to me, Miss Channing. I've just the same resentful feeling
toward him that I have for all the world, if he exists at all. There,
I've shocked you in good earnest now. You should have left me alone,
Miss Channing."

"God means nothing to you because you've never had him translated to
you through human love, Constance," said Miss Channing seriously. "No,
you haven't shoc