soft light in her eyes hardened like a disillusioned lover's. Night after night she lay, on the extreme edge of the bed, beside her mother, silent and unrelenting, and drifted into an unrefreshing sleep. She grew years older.
One afternoon in early June, after a particularly difficult morning of argument with her mother about Alfred Munn (afterwards Stella had called good-bye to Lollie out of the front window, but she wouldn't answer), she returned to the apartment to find it empty. There was a note fastened to the handle of the oven-door on the gas-stove in the kitchen. Laurel discovered it when she went out to get some supper.
I guess you won't be much surprised. I guess you've sort of seen the way the wind was blowing. Ed has wanted me to marry him for years, and as I hadn't any good reason not to now, I'll be Mrs. Alfred Munn when you read this. I would of told you all about it, but I knew how you felt about poor Ed, and it would only of meant more fuss.
Ed's got a grand job down in South America, and he's crazy to have me go down there with him. You know I never had much of a chance to travel, and it seems a big chance for me. So I'm jumping at it. We may be gone a year or two. I'll send you an address when we get one.
I've had this up my sleeve quite a long while, marrying Ed, I mean. You can't explain everything to a child. That was why I hoped you'd stay with your father. But when you didn't, of course I had to keep my promise to Ed just the same. It wouldn't of been fair if I didn't, and he wouldn't listen to anything else. He's been waiting for me all the time you've been growing up, and I won't say I haven't been waiting, too. I've tried my best to make you see Ed the way I do, these last weeks, but you just won't,