Patricia glanced aside at Edgar.
"You think that?" she asked him before them all.
"It would hurt her to be told the truth. She wouldn't believe it, I suppose," he said. "If it would do any good, certainly tell her; but only a close friend whose judgment she valued would do good."
"Nobody, my dear Mayne. Amy Roberts couldn't understand." This was from Monty, who had his dark eyes fixed upon Patricia's every change of expression with a concentration not to be misread.
"She's my friend, you see," urged Patricia. "I hate to think of her being...."
"It'll do her good to find out for herself," said Blanche Tallentyre, with a snap.
Across the table Patricia stared a little at Blanche.
"I wonder," she answered, ruthlessly. "Aren't there quite enough unhappy women in the world, who've found out too late?"
It was strange that this was the first sign of temper she had shown. Blanche's eyes, as filled with miserable sophistication as a monkey's, glittered at the thrust. Her haggard cheeks showed no sign of emotion; but her lips were tightly pressed together. They parted to make retort, but were again sealed. Patricia hardly guessed, because she did not care, that she had made an enemy.