Prissie.

And poor Robin----

Paralysis. She saw the paralysis coming between them, separating them, and
inside her the secret pain was soothed. She need not think of Robin
married any more.

She was going to stay with them. Robin had written the letter. He said
Prissie wanted her. When she met him on the platform she had a little
shock at seeing him changed. Changed. His face was fuller, and a dark
mustache hid the sensitive, uneven, pulsing lip. His mouth was dragged
down further at the corners. But he was the same Robin. In the cab, going
to the house, he sat silent, breathing hard; she felt the tremor of his
consciousness and knew that he still loved her; more than he loved
Priscilla. Poor little Prissie. How terrible!

Priscilla sat by the fireplace in a wheel chair. She became agitated when
she saw Harriett; her arms shook as she lifted them for the embrace.

"Hatty--you've hardly changed a bit." Her voice shook.

Poor little Prissie. She was thin, thinner than ever, and stiff as if she
had withered. Her face was sallow and dry, and the luster had gone from
her black hair. Her wide mouth twitched and wavered, wavered and twitched.
Though it was warm summer she sat by a blazing fire with the windows
behind her shut.

Through dinner Harriett and Robin were silent and constrained. She tried
not to see Prissie shaking and jerking and spilling soup down the front of