PART 3

“A whole fortnight!” said Olive, glancing out of the open lattice across sunny garden. “I ought to be dead! Yes, it was surely up to me to die——” “Nonsense!” said Josepha, smoothing a tress of glossy black hair. “You’re nearly well, and your face won’t show a mark—except where it won’t be noticed.” “Thanks to you, my precious!” cried Olive, turning to kiss that caressing hand. “Oh, but you’ve been kind, terribly kind and good to me! And wherever I go . . . whatever happens to me, I just want you to know I’m carryin…