we will go back together.

.

.

don't think of me." She threw her arms impulsively round Marguerite.

Child as she was, she felt the poignancy of her friend's grief, and with the infinite tact of her girlish tenderness, she did not try to pry into it, but was ready to efface herself.
She kissed Marguerite again and again, then walked sadly back across the lawn.