"Oh, Charlotte, don't you feel bad?
He'd ought to know your father by this time; he'll get over it and come back," she whispered.
"I don't want him to come back," Charlotte whispered fiercely in return.
Sylvia stared at her helplessly.

Charlotte's face looked strange and hard in the moonlight.

"Your mother's dreadful worried," she whispered again, presently.

"She thinks you'll catch cold.

I come out of the front door on purpose so you can go in that way.