"Dear Louise," she whispered, "please tell me!"
Louise was silent. Her hesitation became momentous. Her eyes seemed to be looking through the walls. Sophy watched her breathlessly.
"You ought to make up your mind," she went on. "You see, it isn't as if there was no one else. There is the prince."
Sophy felt the fingers that she was clasping grow a little colder.
"Yes," Louise repeated, "there is the prince. Sophy, I feel that I am drifting into an impossible position. Every day is bringing me nearer to it."
"I want to tell you this, Louise," Sophy said firmly. "John is getting to know a great many people, and you know how men talk at the clubs. Aren't you sometimes afraid that he will hear things and misunderstand?"
"I am expecting it every day," Louise admitted.
"Then why don't you end it?"
"Which way?"
There was a silence between the two women. The muffled street noises from outside became the background to a stillness which grew every moment more oppressive. Louise returned to her former attitude. She looked steadfastly before her, her face supported by her hands.