"But--but you see it's such a lovely day. You know--you know it's such a
beautiful place," was what the resourceful Miss Jones found herself
stammering.

"Yes," agreed her companion, "pleasant weather, isn't it?" She looked at
Katie contemptuously. "You think _weather_ makes any difference? That's
like a girl like you!"

Katie laughed. Laughing seemed the only sand club she had just then. "I
_am_ a fool," she agreed. "I've often thought so myself. But like most
other fools I mean well, and this just didn't seem to me the sort of day
when it would occur to one to kill one's self. Now if it were terribly
hot, the kind of hot that takes your brains away, or so cold you were
freezing, or even if it were raining, not a decent rain, but that
insulting drizzle that makes you hate everything--why then, yes, I might
understand. But to kill one's self in the sunshine!"

As she was finishing she had a strange sensation. She saw that the girl
was looking at her compassionately. Katherine Wayneworth Jones was not
accustomed to being viewed with compassion.

"It would be foolish to try to make you understand," said the girl
simply, finality in her weariness. "It would be foolish to try to make a
girl like you understand that nothing can be so bad as sunshine."

Katie leaned across the table. This interested her. "Why I suppose that
might be true. I suppose--"

But the girl was not listening. She was leaning back in the great wicker
chair. She seemed actually to be relaxing, resting. That seemed strange