"What is it, Jack? Are you going up to London to join Frank?" Frieda inquired, she and Olive having been told nothing of the contents of Captain MacDonnell's letter, nor that there was such a letter in existence. Jack had taken off her morning dress and put on a light flannel wrapper of pale grey with a white collar, as she wished to proceed with her packing more readily. At Frieda's question she shook her head quietly and sat down in a big chair for a moment, asking Olive and Frieda also to be seated. "No; I am not going to Frank," she explained, "indeed, although I am forced to go up to London, I don't want him to know I am there, nor where he can find me for the next day or so. Afterwards I will, of course, write to him." Seeing that Olive and Frieda were becoming more mystified than enlightened by her explanation, and that she was in reality talking more to herself than to them, Jack hesitated for a moment. "Perhaps you won't approve what I am planning to do any more than Frank does," Jack continued, "but Captain MacDonnell has written to ask that I come to him in France where he may be dying, and I am going. Frank has said I must not, but I am going anyway. I told him so last night, but I don't believe he understood I really meant what I said." Jack spoke without any nervousness or sentimental excitement. She looked unhappy, but she also looked perfectly determined. A little too surprised to answer at once, Frieda again studied her sister's face closely. It was Olive who protested. "I hope you won't be angry with me, Jack, and of course I cannot hope to influence you if Frank cannot; but I don't think you ought to do so serious a thing without Frank's consent. In any case, please don't go away without his knowing. You must know that this is not right and that Frank will probably be very hurt and angry." Jack bit her lip for an instant without replying; then she said slowly, as if she fully weighed each word she uttered: "Of course I realize you are right, Olive, and I am afraid Frank will be both the things you say, and more than you may realize. I know, also, that I ought to see him again and tell him definitely just what I intend to do and why I intend doing it. But candidly, if I do, I fear that Frank will not permit it. He is not an American husband, and in any event there would be a scene between us. Frank would not understand at first that this time I intend to keep to my determination. We might quarrel and I don't wish that. It would make me even more unhappy and not save me in any way from Frank's displeasure." "But, Jack, why do you think it is more important to do what Captain MacDonnell desires of you than what Frank wishes?" Frieda inquired, in the cool, matter of fact voice with which she usually, to other people's surprise, asked the leading question. Jack did not change color. She returned her sister's look with her old clear, straightforward gaze.