With a sudden quiet she rose from the table, went around to her father's chair and kissed him very gently.
"All right, dear--I see it all now--and I promise I'll try my best," she said.
"You're a brave little woman," he replied.
But after she had gone, he reflected.

Why had he called her a brave little woman?
Why had it all been so intense, the talk upon so heroic a plane?
It would be hard on Edith, of course; but others were doing it, weren't they?
Think of the women in Europe these days! After all, she'd be very comfortable here, and perhaps by Christmas times would change.
He shook off these petty troubles and went to his office for the day.
* * * * * As she busied herself unpacking the trunks, Edith strove to readjust her plans.

By noon her head was throbbing, but she took little notice of that.
She had a talk with Hannah, the devoted Irish girl who had been with her ever since George was born.

It was difficult, it was brutal.

It was almost as though in Edith's family there had been two mothers, and one was sending the other away.
"There, there, poor child," Edith comforted her, "I'll find you another nice family soon where you can stay till I take you back.