"Poor Beatrix!"
"She does love him, then? I didn't see how she could help it."
Margaret Gannion's hands shut on a fold of her skirt.
"She loves him better than she loves her life; but she loves right better than either."
"And what is right?"
"I am not sure," she confessed weakly. "I can't seem to analyze it at all. What do you think?"
"That she ought to be told."
"What good will it do?"
"At least, it will put her on her guard."
"Against what? From your own showing, it is like fighting an unseen enemy. One never knows when or where it will come. She will only be put under a terrible nervous strain, faced by a fear that will haunt her, day and night. Besides, she might break the engagement. Have you thought of that?"