er
of having a sense of humor. Now I know it. I'm the lucky one who isn't
going to have to wade through the slush any more. I'm to go out to
southern California and live in a nice little bungalow and be a nurse
for five or ten years, and then I'm going to be left alone in genteel
poverty, without an interest in the world, and too tired to make any.
And I'll probably live to eighty.

"And yet,"--she leaned suddenly forward, and the passion that had been
suppressed in her voice till now, leaped up into flame--"and yet, can
you tell me what I could have done differently? I've lived the kind of
life they preach about--a life of noble sacrifice. It hasn't ennobled
me. It's made me petty--mean--sour. It's withered me up. Look at the
difference between us! Look at you with your big free spaciousness--your
power of loving and attracting love! Why, you even love me, now, in
spite of all I've said this morning. I've envied you that--I've almost
hated you for it.

"No, that's a lie. I've wanted to. The only thing I could ever hate you
for, would be for failing. You've got to make good! You've had my share
as well as yours--you're living my life as well as yours. I'm the branch
they cut off so that you could grow. If you give up and let the big
thing slip out of your hands the way you were talking this morning,
because you're too weak to hold it and haven't pluck enough to fight for
it...."

"Look at me!" said Rose. The words rang like a command on a
battle-field.

Portia looked. Rose's blue eyes were blazing. "I won't do that," she
said very quietly. "I promise you that." Then the hard determination in
her face changed to something softer, and as if Portia's resistance
counted no more than that of a child, she pulled her sister up in her
arms and held her tight. And so at last Portia got the relief of tears.

CHAPTER VII

HOW THE PATTERN WAS CUT

Through the two weeks that intervened before Portia and her mother left
for the West, Rose disregarded the physical wretchedness--which went on
getting worse instead of better--and dismissed her psychical worries
until she should have time to attend to them. She helped Portia pack,
she presented a steady cheerful radiance of optimism to her mother, that
never faltered until the last farewells were said.

Just how she'd take up the fight again for the great thing Portia had
adjured her not to miss, she didn't know. She supposed she'd go back to
her law-books--at any rate