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her about this, and that hurt worse than anything else.
    They all went to church…an old and big and gloomy church on a downtown street where the Kennedys had always gone. Jane was rather fond of going to church for the not very commendable reason that she had some peace there. She could be silent without someone asking her accusingly what she was thinking of. Grandmother had to let her alone in church. And if you couldn’t be loved, the next best thing was to be let alone.
    Apart from that Jane did not care for St. Barnabas’. The sermon was beyond her. She liked the music and some of the hymns. Occasionally there was a line that gave her a thrill. There was something fascinating about coral strands and icy mountains, tides that moving seemed asleep, islands that lifted their fronded palms in air, reapers that bore harvest treasures home and years like shadows on sunny hills that lie.
    But nothing gave Jane any pleasure today. She hated the pale sunshine that sifted down between the chilly, grudging clouds. What business had the sun even to try to shine while her fate hung in the balance like this? The sermon seemed endless, the prayers dreary, there was not even a hymn line she liked. But Jane put up a desperate prayer on her own behalf.
    â€œPlease, dear God,” she whispered, “make Uncle William say I needn’t be sent to him . ”
    Jane had to live in suspense as to what Uncle William would say until the Sunday supper was over. She ate little. She sat looking at Uncle William with fear in her eyes, wondering if God really could have much influence over him. They were all there…Uncle William and Aunt Minnie, Uncle David and Aunt Sylvia, and Phyllis; and after supper they all went to the library and sat in a stiff circle while Uncle William put on his glasses and read the letter. Jane thought everyone must hear the beating of her heart.
    Uncle William read the letter…turned back and read a certain paragraph twice…pursed his lips…folded up the letter and fitted it into its envelope…took off his glasses…put them into their case and laid it down…cleared his throat and reflected. Jane felt that she was going to scream.
    â€œI suppose,” said Uncle William at last, “that you had better let her go.”
    There was a good deal more said, though Jane said nothing. Grandmother was very angry.
    But Uncle William said, “Andrew Stuart could take her altogether if he had a mind to. And, knowing him for what he is, I think he very likely would if you angered him. I agree with you, mother, that he is only doing this to annoy us, and when he sees that it has not annoyed us and that we are taking it quite calmly he will probably never bother about her again.”
    Jane went up to her room and stood alone in it. She saw with eyes of despair the great, big, unfriendly place.
    She saw herself in the big mirror reflected in another dim, unfriendly room.
    â€œGod,” said Jane distinctly and deliberately, “is no good.”

CHAPTER 10
    â€œI think your father and mother might have got on if it hadn’t been for you,” said Phyllis.
    Jane winced. She hadn’t known that Phyllis knew about her father. But it seemed that everybody had known except her. She did not want to talk about him, but Phyllis was bent on talking.
    â€œI don’t see,” said Jane miserably, “why I made so much difference to them.”
    â€œMother says your father was jealous because Aunt Robin loved you so much.”
    This, thought Jane, was a different yarn from the one Agnes Ripley had told. Agnes had said her mother hadn’t wanted her. What was the truth? Perhaps neither Phyllis nor Agnes knew it. Anyhow, Jane liked Phyllis’ version better than Agnes’. It was dreadful to think you ought never to have been born…that your mother wasn’t glad to have you.
    â€œMother says,” went on Phyllis, finding that Jane had nothing to say,