Twilight Sleep
appointment in Nona's voice. Poor Nona—her mother had long been aware that she had no enthusiasm, no transports of faith. She took after her father. How tired and sallow she looked in the morning light, perched on the arm of a chair, her long legs dangling!
"You really ought to try to believe that yourself, darling," said Pauline brightly.
Nona gave one of her father's shrugs. "Perhaps I will when I have more time."
"But one can always make time, dear." ("Just as I do," the smile suggested.) "You look thoroughly fagged out, Nona. I do wish you'd go to the wonderful new man I've just—"
"All right, mother. Only, this morning I haven't come to talk about myself. It's Lita."
"Lita?"
"I've been wanting to speak to you about her for a long time. Haven't you noticed anything?"
Pauline still wore her alert and sympathizing smile. "Tell me what, dear—let's talk it all over."
Nona's brows were drawn in a troubled frown. "I'm afraid Jim's not happy," she said.
"Jim? But, darling, he's been so dreadfully over-worked—that's the trouble. Your father spoke to me about it the other day. He's sending Jim and Arthur down to the island next month for a good long rest."
"Yes; it's awfully nice of father. But it's not that—it's Lita," Nona doggedly repeated.
