“Butterfly, please——!”
“Sis, that’s what I’ve been trying to get my courage up to ask you!” Butterfly burst out, growing agitated, and slipping from her low chair suddenly, to kneel in a flutter of laces on the hearth rug, and put her arms about Hilary. “Dearest, I want you to know what this means to me—that it’s my life. I dream of it, I think of it all day and all night; myself as Konrad’s wife. And you can help me—nobody else can! Think of the places we would travel, Hilary, the great persons we would meet, and the wonderful music we’d make together! Why shouldn’t I take my place as Sabine Charpentier’s daughter—he says I shall! In one of the wonderful talks we had last spring—of course there was no thought of my getting a divorce then! But just talking of the future, and of what I cou
