“It is all so dreadful!”
“You love him, I suppose?”
“O yes, dearly.”
“Then you must get over it; you must never think of him any more.”
“Never think of him! I shall think of him all my life.”
“That is as it may be. You must never have anything more to do with him. He has blood upon his hands, blood shed for some bad woman.”
“I cannot desert him, Florence, because he has got into trouble.”
“Over another woman.”
A peculiar expression of pain passed over Eva’s face.
“How cruel you are, Florence! He is only a boy, and boys will go wrong sometimes. Anybody can make a fool of a boy.”