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"Three years?" she said again, as one refusing to
believe.
"Yes," Sarah said, impressed by the girl's earnestness; "three
years."
"Good God!" There was no irreverence in the exclamation that
broke from the girl's lips. Instead, only a tense horror that
touched to the roots of emotion.
Sarah regarded this display of feeling on the part of the young
woman before her with an increasing astonishment. It was not in
her own nature to be demonstrative, and such strong expression of
emotion as this she deemed rather suspicious. She recalled, in
addition, the fact that his was not the first time that Helen
Morris had shown a particular interest in the fate of Mary
Turner. Sarah wondered why.
"Say," she demanded, with the directness habitual to her, "why
are you so anxious about it? This is the third time you have
asked me about Mary Turner. What's it to you, I'd like to know?"
The salesgirl started violently, and a deep flush drove the
accustomed pallor from her cheeks. She was obviously much
disturbed by the question.


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