'Yes, I have been, and I saw your sister, Walter,' she said at last,
when they had opportunity to talk alone. 'She is much better, she says,
and hopes to get out soon.'

'Did you see anybody else?'

'Yes, a friend whom she called Teen; I do not know her other name,'
answered Gladys.

'Teen Balfour--I ken her. An' what do you think of Liz?'

He put the question with a furtive anxiety of look and tone not lost on
Gladys.

'I like her. At first I thought her manner strange, but she has a
feeling heart too. And she is very beautiful.'

'You think so too?' said the lad, with a strange bitterness; 'then it
must be true.'

'Why should it not? It is pleasant to be beautiful, I think,' said
Gladys, with a little smile.

'For ladies, for you, perhaps it is, but not for Liz,' said Walter. 'It
would be better for her if she looked like Teen.'

Gladys did not ask why.

'I am very sorry for her too. It is so dreadful her life, sewing all day