Fanny averted her eyes. The response that rose to her lips was too pertinent.
“It’s because you always loved Overton!” she longed to cry out. Instead, she rose and put her arms around Diane. “If you feel like that, dear,” she said, “there’s only one way out.”
Diane clung to her trembling.
“You mean——”
“Your father’s way,” Fanny said firmly. “Papa told us the judge meant to get a divorce for you.”
Diane held her, looking into her eyes. The two seemed to have suddenly changed places; Fanny was the more composed and confident now.
“Then you—you don’t think it would be wrong?” Diane implored.
Fanny shook her head.
“I think it’s better than to feel as you do. I know mama’s fearfully opposed to divorce, and papa is, of course. But, no, Di, I think it would be right for you—and for him, too.”
Diane’s hands fell from Fanny’s shoulders, and she walked slowly over to the window and stood looking out. For a while they were both silent. Fanny felt that instead of reassuring her friend, she had only added to her distress. Through her very words of encouragement Diane must have felt the subtle suggestion of Fanny’s mind—her belief that Diane’s love for Overton made her marriage not only intolerable but impossible.