'Where is the coffee?' she asked, affecting the dullness of lethargy.
She was full of small affectations, being consumed with uneasy love.

'I think, my dear,' replied Helena, 'it is in its usual place.'

'Oh--o-o-oh!' yawned Louisa, and she dragged herself out.

The two had been intimate friends for years, had slept together, and
played together and lived together. Now the friendship was coming to
an end.

'After all,' said Byrne, when the door was closed, 'if you're alive
you've got to live.'

Helena burst into a titter of amusement at this sudden remark.

'Wherefore?' she asked indulgently.

'Because there's no such thing as passive existence,' he replied,
grinning.

She curled her lip in amused indulgence of this very young man.

'I don't see it at all,' she said.

'You can't, he protested, 'any more than a tree can help budding in
April--it can't help itself, if it's alive; same with you.'

'Well, then'--and again there was the touch of a sneer--'if I can't help