I know you understand.

And then poor Herb--he--he loves me and I love him, Anne.

The others meant nothing to me, but HE does--and if I could live I would be his wife and be so happy.

Oh, Anne, it's hard." Ruby sank back on her pillows and sobbed convulsively.

Anne pressed her hand in an agony of sympathy--silent sympathy, which perhaps helped Ruby more than broken, imperfect words could have done; for presently she grew calmer and her sobs ceased.
"I'm glad I've told you this, Anne," she whispered.