"The police!" Evie screamed. "Am I to be engaged to a man who—gives himself up to the police?"
"It will only be for a little while, dear—"
"I don't care whether it's for a little while or foreverit can't be. What is he thinking of? What are you thinking of? Don't you see? How can I face the world—with all my invitations—when the man I'm engaged to is—in jail?"
Evie's hands flew up in a still more eloquent gesture, while the blue eyes, usually so soft and veiled, were wide with flaming interrogation.
"I knew that—in some ways—it might be hard for you—"
Evie laughed, a little silvery mirthless ripple of scorn.
"I must say, Miriam, you choose your words skilfully. But you're wrong, do you see? There's no way in which it can be hard for me, because there's no way in which it's possible."
"Oh yes, there is, dear—if you love him."
"That has nothing to do with it. Of course I love him. Haven't I said so? But that doesn't make any difference. Can't I love him without being engaged to—to—to a man who has to go to jail?"
"Certainly; but you can't love him if you don't feel that you must—that you simply must—stand by his side."