the rose
taffeta petticoats of a porcelain lady was supplemented at the moment
by a bed-side lamp which flung a ring of gold beyond Jean's blotter to
the edge of the lace spread. For Jean was writing in bed. All day her
mind had been revolving around this letter, but she had had no time to
write. She had spent the afternoon in the Toy Shop with Emily, and in
the evening there had been a Red Cross sale. She had gone to the sale
with Ralph Witherspoon and his mother. She had not been able to get
out of going. All the time she had talked to Ralph she had thought of
Derry. She had rather hoped that he might be there, but he wasn't.

The letter required much thought. She tore up, extravagantly, several
sheets of note-paper with tiny embossed thistles at the top. Doctor
McKenzie was intensely Scotch, and he was entitled to a crest, but he
was also intensely American, and would have none of it. He had
designed Jean's note-paper, and it was lovely. But it was also
expensive, and it was a shame to waste so much of it on Derry Drake.

The note when it was finished seemed very simple. Just one page in
Jean's firm, clear script:

"Dear Mr. Drake:--

"Could you spare me one little minute tomorrow? I shall be at home at
four. It is very important--to me at least. Perhaps when you hear
what I have to say, it will seem important to you. I hope it may.

"Very sincerely yours,

"JEAN MCKENZIE."

She read it over several times. It seemed very stiff and inadequate.
She sealed it and stamped it, then in a panic tore it open for a
re-reading. She was oppressed by doubts. Did nice girls ask men to
come and see them? Didn't they wait and weary [Transcriber's note:
worry?] like Mariana of the Moated Grange--? "He cometh not, she said?"

New times! New manners! She had branded a man as a coward. She had
condemned him unheard. She had slighted him, she had listened while
others slandered--why should she care what other women had done? Would
do? Her way was clear. She owed an apology to Derry Drake, and she
would make it.

So with a new envelope, a new stamp, the note was again sealed.

It had to be posted that night. She felt that under no circumstance
could she stand the suspense of another day.

She had heard her father go out. Hilda was coming up, the maids were
asleep. She waited until Hilda's door was shut, then she slipped out
of bed, tucked her toes into a pair of sandals, threw a furry motor