"I couldn’t help knowing that you were Elaine’s sister, after really looking at you," Peggy replied, trying to smile naturally. Grace reflected a minute, apparently studying the pattern of the carpet. "So you don’t believe in giving in to a lie." "No!" Peggy gulped. "I don’t." "And if you’re in the right, you should hold your head up and let people think what they please. Isn’t that what you said?" "It’s what I believe, anyway, with all my heart." "I half think you’re right. And do you know, Peggy Raymond, I’ve been acting on a very different plan. I’m going to tell you something that happened not so very long ago and see what you have to say about that." It was the story Peggy had heard before, shorn of some of its tragedy, compressed into as few words as possible; a bald little tale, if the burning eyes of the narrator had not supplied the pathos. She sat with crossed hands as she told it, and when she had finished, looked expectantly in Peggy’s direction. "Well?" she said as the other hesitated. "Well," cried Peggy, voicing a sentiment she had expressed earlier, "somebody ought to hide. But not you." "Then you think I’ve been silly." "Yes." Peggy’s smile took the edge off her bluntness. "And cowardly?" "You could be braver." "Well, I’ve been brave enough to come down and see you, anyway." Grace laughed out, and Peggy noticed that both Elaine and her mother started nervously at the sound. "You mustn’t think me familiar on short acquaintance. You see I’ve known you for some time, and the most popular topic of conversation in this house since we moved in has been Peggy Raymond. You don’t mind my calling you _Peggy_?" "I’d mind dreadfully if you called me anything else. And, by the way!" Peggy had some sensible ideas as to striking when the iron is hot. "Mayn’t I bring some of the girls in to see you? They will be so interested when they know Elaine’s sister has come." Grace’s gesture reminded Peggy of one who, coming from the darkness of a cellar, blinks and shrinks away from the sunshine. "Not yet. Not quite yet," she pleaded. "Let me get a little used to things first." And Peggy wisely forbore to press her, guessing that as soon as Grace began to live normally her unnatural shrinking from companionship would disappear. It was an exciting evening. Peggy stayed till her mother telephoned to ask if anything was the matter. When some reference was made to Elaine’s headache, Elaine protested. "Headache! I haven’t any headache. I never felt better in my life." Peggy viewed her with approval. It was not only that Elaine’s color had returned, and her languid eyes had brightened. There was another change, indefinable, but not to be mistaken. When courage and resolution come flooding back into a heart deprived of both the least observing cannot fail to note the difference. "Going to the office, to-morrow?" Peggy demanded, as she rose to go. "Of course."