"An' you'd go back to him, M's. Lytton? You'd go back without lovin' him?"
Incredulity was in her tone.
"Of course. It is my place. He is coming to me soon, stronger, wiser, I hope, and there's a chance that we will find at least a little peace together."
"But the' won't be love,"—in a whisper.
Ann gave a little shudder and braced her shoulders backward.
"No, Nora. That is past. Besides, I—"
"Don't be afraid to admit it!" the girl urged, speaking rapidly. "Don't be afraid to tell me. I know what you're thinkin'. You love Bruce Bayard! I know; you can't hide it from me, M's. Lytton."
Ann's fingers twisted the coverlet.
"And if I do?" she asked weakly. "What if I do?"
"What if you do? Ain't lovin' a man answer enough for any woman?" cried the other. "Is the' anything else that holds folks together? Is the' anything else that makes men an' women happy? Does your bein' a man's wife mean happiness? Your promisin' to love him didn't make you love, did it? Because a preacher told you you was one didn't make it so, did it? Nobody can make you love him, not even yourself, 'cause you said it was duty that takes you back; that you don't love him. But you can't help lovin' Bruce Bayard!