"You settled it?" I suggested, in a reverent whisper.
"I did," she replied softly.
My mind was a yawning void, except for the intrusive suggestion of coffee, plainly absurd, yet some instinct warned me to avoid abruptness.
"Was she willing to—to—?" I ventured.
"Willing!—willing!—I should think so. But I know exactly how she felt. Her mind was really made up, I think, though she didn't know it. I could see that although she thought she wanted my advice she would have been heartbroken if I had advised her not to do it, and I knew that what she needed was my encouragement, so—I—I——"
"You encouraged her," I cried, with sudden inspiration.
"Why, of course I did. She was so grateful that she just threw her arms about me and—" Marion choked with emotion and stopped to wipe away her joyful tears.
I began to feel distracted, but with an effort I focussed my mind on the main point, setting aside as unimportant a doubt as to what Aunt Sophy had done or said after she had embraced her niece.
"What disturbed her mind before you settled it?" I asked.