"I'm not good—I'm not wise or brave," Dolly broke out. "It is so hard to bear. I never thought—never knew before. Margot, hold me tight. Margot, I'm not brave," she sobbed. "It's only pride. I couldn't—couldn't—let anybody know—but oh, I do feel as if I could hate that girl."
"You must not."
"No, no, I know; but how am I to help it?"
"There's only the one way. Nothing is ever too hard to be overcome. And after all we don't know—we don't know anything really. It may be all a mistake. I mean, as to his caring in the least for her."
"But you thought—"
"I fancied his look a little suspicious,—that shut-up manner that he puts on, when he minds particularly about anything. And Mervyn's way of speaking too. Still, it may be all a mistake, all nonsense."
"Only—"
"Only it may not be. And meantime you are right to be careful. Don't be hard and cold to Edred, Dolly; no need for that. Only be simple and dignified."
"I can't be dignified. It isn't in me. I'm all one way or all the other."
"Then you have to learn. If you are too cold, you will drive him away; and if you are too warm—" Dolly shuddered. "Yes, you see. Just be natural."