"Because then we'd have to believe everything that happened was right. And it is n't."
"Was our coming here not right?"
Marjory did not answer.
"If you could have seen the hope in Peter's face when I left him!"
"He does n't know!" choked Marjory.
"He knows you are here, and that is all he needs to know," answered Beatrice.
"If it were only as simple as that."
The younger girl rose and, moving to the other's side, placed an arm over the drooping shoulders.
"Marjory dear," she said. "I feel to-night more like Peter than myself. I have listened so many hours in the dark as he talked about you. He—he has given me a new idea of love. I'd always thought of love in a—a sort of fairy-book way. I did n't think of it as having much to do with everyday life. I supposed that some time a knight would come along on horseback—if ever he came—and take me off on a long holiday."
Marjory gave a start. The girl was smoothing her hair.