“Beryl, I don’t want to discuss it. I can’t discuss it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it is too painful—a horrible subject. You must take my word for it that I have written you the plain truth.”
“Please don’t think I doubt your word, Adela.”
“No, of course not. And that being so let the matter end there. It must end there.”
“But—where? I don’t quite understand really.”
“I felt obliged to send you a warning, a very serious warning. I greatly disliked, I hated doing it. But I couldn’t do otherwise. You are young—a girl. I am an—I am almost an old woman. We have been friends. I saw you in danger. What could I do but tell you of it? I knew of course you were quite innocent in the matter. I am putting no blame whatever on you. You will do me that justice.”
“Oh, yes.”
“So there is nothing more to discuss. I have done what I was bound to do, and I know you will heed my warning.”
She looked at the letter in Beryl’s hand, and remembered her feeling of danger when she wrote it.