'How can I tell from postcards what you are thinking and feeling ?' 'You may always take it for granted that I'm doing very little of either,' said Helen, smiling.
Althea was silent for a moment, and then, with a distress apparent in voice and face, she said: 'I can't bear you to say that.' Helen still smiled, but she was evidently at a loss.

She added some milk to her tea and took a slice of bread and butter before saying, more kindly, yet more lightly than before: 'You mustn't judge me by yourself.
I'm not a bit thoughtful, you know, or warm-hearted and intellectual, like you.

I just rub along.

I'm sure you'll not find it worth while keeping in touch with me.' 'It's merely that I care for you very much,' said Althea, in a slightly quivering voice.

'And I can't bear to think that I am nothing to you.' There was again a little pause in which, because her eyes had suddenly filled with tears, Althea looked down and could not see her friend.
Helen's voice, when she spoke, showed her that she was pained and disconcerted.