“Thank God!” Zora reverently repeated.
“Come, let’s go back to poor, dear Miss Smith,” suggested Mary.
‚ÄúI can‚Äôt come just now‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut pretty soon.‚Äù
‚ÄúWhy? Oh, I see; you‚Äôre trying on something‚ÅÝ‚Äîhow pretty and becoming! Well, hurry.‚Äù
As they stood together, the white woman deemed the moment opportune; she slipped her arm about the black woman’s waist and began:
“Zora, I’ve had something on my mind for a long time, and I shouldn’t wonder if you had thought of the same thing.”
“What is it?”
“Bles and Emma.”
“What of them?”
“Their liking for each other.”
Zora bent a moment and caught up the folds of the Fleece.
“I hadn’t noticed it,” she said in a low voice.
‚ÄúWell, you‚Äôre busy, you see. They‚Äôve been very much together‚ÅÝ‚Äîhis taking her to her charges, bringing her back, and all that. I know they love each other; yet something holds them apart, afraid to show their love. Do you know‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI‚Äôve wondered if‚ÅÝ‚Äîquite unconciously, it is you? You know Bles used to imagine himself in love with you, just as he did afterward with Miss Wynn.‚Äù
‚ÄúMiss‚ÅÝ‚ÄîWynn?‚Äù