Читать книгу Wintersmoon онлайн

20 страница из 136

Janet gazed and gazed. She could not speak. Tears filled her eyes. That Rosalind should have given her this, Rosalind whom she loved so utterly, Rosalind——

She placed it on the table, then caught her sister into her arms and held her, cheek against cheek, held her as though it were for life.

"Why, Mops dear, you're crying!" Rosalind gently withdrew herself. "You do like it, then! I thought you would. I was at a little sale this afternoon—you know, Marie Haik's thing—and I saw one or two of these, and I had to get one. They were made by Mrs. Somebody or other, I forget the name, but she's married and got lots of money and just does them for pleasure. I saw it and I had to get it. It was too awfully sweet. I said to myself, 'That's just the thing for Mops!'"

She spoke a little eagerly, a little nervously. To see Janet in tears, controlled and wise-minded Janet, was embarrassing. And she didn't want to be thanked. It made her remember all the wicked selfish things she was always doing.

Janet wiped her eyes. But still she couldn't speak. The thing was too lovely, but lovelier still was it that Rosalind should have bought it, bought it of her own generous volition without any prompting and given it her now, of all times, just when she had such a piece of news to deliver!