"Knew it? How could he know it?"
"Well, the ladies were very transparent, some of them. And when they weren't there was always some kind person there to make them so. And when he saw through them—he was off. You could see the horror of it coming over him, and his poor terrified eyes protesting—'I'd do anything for you—anything, my dear girl, but that.'"
Julia paused, as if on the brink of something still profounder. Evidently she abhorred the plunge, while Freda shrank from the horrible exposure of the shallower waters.
"And those women," said Julia, after meditation, "wondered why they lost their friend. They might have kept him if they'd only kept their heads."
It was at this point that Freda felt that Julia was trying to drag her in with her.
"How awful," said she, "to feel that you'd driven a man away!"
"It might be more awful," said Julia, "for him to feel he had to go."
"That's it," said Freda. "Had he?"
"Well, if he was honorable, what else was there for him to do?"
"To stay by those women, and see them through—if he was honorable."