"Yet, Frieda, you feel I ought to question Ralph when Jim, who is his dear friend, is unwilling? I am afraid not, Frieda dear. You realize I have seen so little of Ralph and Jean since their marriage, as I have been living in England and they have been in the United States except while Ralph was in service in France. Secretly I confess I am a little afraid of Ralph, more than I am of either your husband or Olive's, Ralph is so quiet and apparently so self-sufficient. If he has made up his mind to a certain action I cannot believe that any one save Jean _could_ influence him."
"Yes, but Jean won't _try_ to influence him this time, at least this is my impression," Frieda added hastily, "and Ralph feels sorry for you at present, Jack dear, and admires the way you are facing things. He said so last night at dinner, said quite plainly that he admired you more than any one of the former Ranch girls, which was not especially polite of him, although I did not mind, even if Henry was there and might feel he had made a mistake in marrying me instead of you, not that he could have married you, as you were engaged already. But I must get back home now, or else Ralph may arrive and perhaps believe I have been gossiping about him."
"Good gracious, Jack, isn't that Ralph on his way here this instant? It is either Ralph or some one like him! Let me slip into the house and stay there until you persuade Ralph to go for a walk, then I'll run home. I hope Jean will be too much engaged to miss me, I did not mention to any one I was coming over to the lodge. Good-by, dear; anyhow, you can do your best to follow my advice."
Scarcely a moment after Frieda had disappeared Jacqueline Kent went quickly forward to greet Ralph Merritt, who was walking slowly across one of the fields in the direction of the Rainbow lodge. At once Jack believed that even had Frieda not forewarned her, she must nevertheless have observed the trouble in Ralph's face.
"I have come to say good-by and hello at the same time, Jack," he announced. "Sorry not to see more of you, but I'm off for New Mexico this afternoon, I don't know for how long a time."
Perhaps there are occasions in this life when frankness may not be desirable. But the spiritual frankness of Jacqueline Kent, which did not consist of saying unkind things to people under such a guise, but of going directly to the heart of what she felt and believed and of expecting the same thing of other human beings, nearly always served.