"I've gone off worse than Pamela!"
"With more cause, I'm sure," said Rachel bitterly.
"Oh, I've suffered!" Eva threw her two roses back on the table with the petulant gesture of a child, "no one knows how I've suffered!"
Rachel picked up the discarded roses and put them carefully into the vase. "Have you never thought of me, Eva?"
"That's one of the things that make it so bad, Rachel; I've thought of it often. I know it must be dreadful for you, it must be!"
"I don't think that quite expresses it."
Rachel spoke dispassionately, but as she turned and stood facing Eva, the ravages of pain were apparent in the dark shadows under the eyes, the delicately hollowed cheeks, the tightening of the sensitive lips. It had not diminished her beauty, which was less dependent on color than Eva's, and the subtle charm of her expression was deepened and accentuated; Eva felt it.
"Rachel, I'm certain that he—that he'll learn to love you better than he ever loved me; I know he hates me now!"
"Can't you let him go out of your life altogether?"
Eva shook her head slowly. "How can I? Think of all it meant to us, to you and me, Rachel! Besides, I've suffered."