"You told her more?"
"That if she could love you—oh, I could n't help it!"
"So that is why she listened to you; why she listened to me. You begged for her pity, and—she gave it. I thought at least I could leave her with my head up."
Beatrice began to sob.
"I—I did the best I knew how," she pleaded.
His head was bowed. He looked crushed. Throwing herself upon her knees in front of him, Beatrice reached for his clasped hands.
"I did the best I knew!" she moaned.
"Yes," he answered dully; "you did that. Every one has done that. Only—nothing should have been done at all. Nothing can ever be done."
"You—you forgive me, Peter?"
"Yes."