That was Janet's way of putting it, the way Janet made herself look on at life, the apparently heartless aspect in which she viewed everything.

To sympathize would only sting her to still more bitter sarcasm.

Sally said nothing, the pity was in her eyes.
"I've never told you that before, have I ?" said Janet.
"No." "And I suppose you're terribly shocked because I even ever thought of living with a man ?" "No, I'm not.

If you loved him and--and he couldn't marry you." Out of the corner of her eyes Janet watched her, rubbing her face vigorously with the towel to conceal her observation.

In that moment then, she saw the end of Sally, drew the matter out in her mind, as, with hurried strokes, she might have sketched a passing face upon the slip of paper.
"Well, you run on down to breakfast," she said.