Sarah laughed nervously. “That, from you. I remember—”

“Please do not begin remembering things, or we shall be all day and the rest of the week too. I am a little tired. May we sit down?”

“I am sorry!” Sarah led her to a chaise lounge at the foot of her bed and drew up a chair for herself. Lauretta sat down, slipped her bonnet off and dropped it to the floor beside the chaise. “Do you want anything? Tea? A glass of wine? Something to eat?”

Lauretta shook her head. “Just let me sit a little and get used to being here.”

“Of course, my dear. Tired or not, you’re looking very well.”

Lauretta sighed and rolled her eyes. “I take care of my looks—but I’m forty, and today I feel it.”

“You are forty-four, Lauretta, and I am forty-two.”

Lauretta stared intently at Sarah. “You haven’t taken care of yourself. All faded, not a bit pretty, I used to think you pretty. You had such a fresh and girlish appearance, quite disarming, I assure you.”

“Well,” Sarah said simply, “I’m not a girl any longer.”

“Life is hard!” Lauretta exclaimed. Tears came into her eyes, and her lip trembled. “Life has used both of us hardly, sister!”

“It has done nothing of the kind—to me anyway. I do just about as I please—but, you see, there is so very much to do!”

“I’m sure you work too much; it shows in the lines of your face. I shall speak to Leon about you.”

“No, you shall not. I am quite happy.”

“Do you mean to say you believe yourself happy?” Lauretta said incredulously.

“I am at any rate not unhappy. That is enough.”

“For you perhaps. You were never one to ask for much. But I—I wanted the world!” Lauretta burst into tears again, holding her face in her hands.

Sitting down beside her on the chaise, Sarah put an arm around her shoulders and rocked her gently, without offering words of comfort.

But as though she had, Lauretta suddenly drew herself up, stopped crying and blew her nose. “You are right. I mustn’t cry. It will make me look too dreary. Tears are a luxury women our age may indulge only at a price!” She got up from the chaise and went quickly to Sarah’s dressing table, first looking critically at herself in the mirror, then fluffing her hair out at the sides. She glanced at the objects on the table, her hands playing over brush and comb as if they were her own. “You certainly don’t have much, do you? A thin box of face powder and one tiny bottle of perfume. No wonder you look so wan. I shall lend you some of my own little helpers. One of the hard-ships of California was that there was no really good hair dye.”