"He—cannot."
"If you go to Doctor Ledyard—and he knows and believes—what will he do?"
"He has been Huntter's physician for years. If he has been mistaken, he will go to Huntter."
"Go to—Huntter! And what then? Suppose Mr. Huntter—still takes the chance?"
"Ledyard will—he will forbid it!"
"And what good will that do?" A pitiful bitterness crept into Priscilla's voice; her lips quivered.
"It is all Huntter! Huntter! All men! men! and there stands my dear—alone! No one goes to her to let—her choose; no one but me! Don't you see what I mean? Oh! my love, my love! My good, good man, can you leave her there in ignorance, all of you? Through the ages she has not had her say—about the chance, and that is why——"
Priscilla paused, choked by rising passion.
"Little girl, listen! What do you mean?" Travers was genuinely alarmed and anxious.
"I mean"—the white, set face looked like an avenger's, not a passionately loving woman's—"I mean—that because women have never had an opportunity to know and to choose, you and I, and all people like us, stand helpless with our own great heaven-sent love at peril!"