In a strange fashion she was suddenly afraid of Sabine, perhaps because she was so bent upon pushing things to a definite solution. It seemed to Olivia that she herself was losing all power of action, all capacity for anything save waiting, pretending, doing nothing.
“And I’m interested,” continued Sabine slowly, “because I can’t bear the tragic spectacle of another John Pentland and Mrs. Soames.”
“There won’t be,” said Olivia desperately. “My father-in-law is different from Michael.”
“That’s true....”
“In a way ... a finer man.” She found herself suddenly in the amazing position of actually defending Pentlands.
“But not,” said Sabine with a terrifying reasonableness, “so wise a one ... or one so intelligent.”
“No. It’s impossible to say....”
“A thing like this is likely to come only once to a woman.”
(“Why does she keep repeating the very things that I’ve been fighting all along,” thought Olivia.) Aloud she said, “Sabine, you must leave me in peace. It’s for me alone to settle.”
“I don’t want you to do a thing you will regret the rest of your life ... bitterly.”