She told Gertrude the truth and showed her the pitiful letter Eleanor had left behind her, and together they wept over it. Also together, they faced David and Jimmie.
“She went away,” Margaret told them, “both because she felt she was hurting those that she loved and because she herself was hurt.”
“What do you mean?” David asked.
“I mean—that she belonged body and soul to Peter and to nobody else,” Margaret answered deliberately.
David bowed his head. Then he threw it back again, suddenly.
“If that is true,” he said, “then I am largely responsible for her going.”
“It is I who am responsible,” Jimmie groaned aloud. “I asked her to marry me and she refused me.”
“I asked her to marry me and didn’t give her the chance to refuse,” David said; “it is that she is running away from.”
“It was Peter’s engagement that was the last straw,” Margaret said. “The poor baby withered and shrank like a flower in the blast when I told her that.” 273
“The damned hound—” Jimmie said feelingly and without apology. “Who’s he engaged to anyway?”