She stood for a moment and stared after them with frowning brows.

Rosemary she did not like and never would like, after their hidden feud of months over such small matters as the cat and the dog, and unswept floors, and the like.

A mountain of unwashed dishes stood between these two, as it were, and forbade anything like friendship.
But the parting that was at hand had brushed aside her jealousy of Jean as leading woman.

Intuitively she knew that with any encouragement Jean would have been her friend.

Oddly, she remembered now that Jean had been the first to ask for her when she came to the ranch.