'rene!' she cried, 'of course you remember i but i won't make you tell me, because i know just as well as if i'd been there and heard every unkind word. i know, i know. frank danton saw me in the shelby one night. don't tell me he didn't broadcast that, and with embroidery. others may have seen me at other times. i don't know. but once i met margaret hammer in marshall field's. i'd have spoken, was on the very point of doing it, but she cut me dead. my dear 'rene, i assure you that from the way she looked through me, even i was uncertain whether i was actually there in the flesh or not. i remember it clearly, too clearly. it was that very thing which, in a way, finally decided me not to go out and see you one last time before i went away to stay. somehow, good as all of you, the whole family, had always been to the poor forlorn child that was me, i felt i shouldn't be able to bear that. i mean if any of you, your mother or the boys or — well, i just felt i'd rather not know it if you did. and so i stayed away. silly, i suppose. sometimes i've been sorry i didn't go.'