“He is killing you.”
“No, he is killing himself.” Suddenly Elinor flared into a passionate outburst. “Don't you think I know where all this is leading? Do you believe for a moment that I think all this can lead to anything but death? It is a madness, Lily; they are all mad, these men. Don't you know that I have talked and argued and prayed, against it?”
“Then come away. You have done all you could, and you have failed, haven't you?”
“It is not time for me to go,” Elinor said. And Lily, puzzled and baffled, found herself again looking into Elinor's quiet, inscrutable eyes.
Elinor had taken it for granted that the girl was going home, and together they packed almost in silence. Once Elinor looked up from folding a garment, and said:
“You said you had not understood before, but that now you do. What did you mean?”
“Pink Denslow was here.”
“What does he know?”
“Do you think I ought to tell you, Aunt Elinor? It isn't that I don't trust you. You must believe that, but don't you see that so long as you stay here—he said that to me—you are one of them.”
Elinor resumed her folding.