But Pixie did not enlighten her.
“I think he ought to have written to me!” she said decisively. “After all, Bridgie, it is my business, not yours. I thought he would write.”
Bridgie had the grace to blush.
“But just at first, dear, it is difficult.—He feels it so much. It’s easier to a third person. Later on, in a few months’ time, when things have settled down, he wants to come north to see us. It will be easier then...”
“Oh!” Pixie seemed of a sudden as eager to avoid the subject as she had been to continue it. She handed her own letter across the table with a short “From Honor! You may read it,” and thereby protected herself against the scrutiny of Bridgie’s eyes.
The sheet was covered with a large, straggling handwriting, and Pixie, reading it, had seemed to hear Honor’s very voice speaking to her.
“My dear Patricia,—I guess you may not want to hear from me, but I’m bound to write, and maybe I can say a few things that will help us both. You’re feeling pretty badly at the moment. But I want you just to realise that I’ve been feeling that way for a good year back, and to try to see both sides.
“It began, Patricia, through our both feeling lone and lorn and trying to comfort each other. You’ll recollect you asked me to be good to him! Things went on all right for a spell, but before we knew where we were that friendship had got to be too important to us both. There wasn’t a thought of disloyalty in it, Patricia, on his part or mine, and the very first time I had an inkling of what was happening I went off west for a tour of four months. I presume it was too late by that time, for when I went home (I was bound to go home!) matters didn’t seem to have mended. After a while we had it out—it was bound to come some time—and I told Stanor straight he’d either got to make a clean breast of things to you or never see me again. Up till then, I guess, we’d behaved as well as any two youngsters could have been expected to do under the circumstances, but after that things went to pieces. He wouldn’t tell, and he couldn’t keep away! I’m not defending Stanor. He’s shown up pretty badly over this business. He’s been weak, and obstinate, and dishonourable. I don’t delude myself a mite, but, you see, Pixie, I love him! It’s the real thing with both of us this time, and that makes a mighty difference. I can see his faults and feel sorry about them, but it don’t make me love him any the less; and if all my money were to pan out to-morrow he’d be sorry, but he’d love me just the same. So there it was, Pixie—and a wearing time I’ve had of it, fighting against his wishes—and my own! In the end I decided to join some friends and come over to Europe, and leave him to think things over by himself. Maybe I guessed he’d follow and be forced to meet you. It’s difficult to understand one’s own motives at these times. Anyway, before I knew where I was he’d taken a berth in the same boat, and—here we are!
“Stanor says you have grown-up, and look different. You are both different after these years apart, and, anyway, it was a mistake from the beginning, Patricia, and wouldn’t have worked out. Now, we suit each other, and the life we are going to lead will bring out the best in us both! He seems to you pretty contemptible at this moment, but there’s so many sides to one human creature, and that is only one side. He’s got lots of others that are good and true—
“Yesterday I had an ordeal. I was introduced to the ‘Runkle.’ Why didn’t I know he was like that? He was quite courteous—he couldn’t be anything else. But his eyes, (what eyes!) made arches at me, as if to say, ‘He prefers her!’ and I felt frozen stiff. Now I shan’t rest satisfied till that man’s my friend, but it will take time—
“Pixie, we’re going to be married quite soon—as soon as ever we can fix up the necessary formalities, spend a honeymoon in Switzerland, and get back to our work. I don’t ask to see you—just at the moment it would do no good, but couldn’t you just manage to send me a line to melt this stone in my heart? I’d be so happy if it wasn’t there. But it won’t melt till I hear from you, that you understand, and you forgive!
“Lovingly,—Honor.”
Bridgie read and sighed, folded the sheet carefully, and sighed again.
“It’s so difficult,”—she began.
“What is difficult?”