“I think you nearly loved her once.”
My tongue was silent. Beela laughed mischievously; little devils were dancing in her eyes.
“Joseph, I’m serious. Reflect because it wouldn’t be wise to act hastily now and suffer for the rest of life. Annabel would make a perfect wife. She would play no pranks and childish deceptions. You understand her and she knows you. I’m only a wild, uncouth savage.”
“Anything more, dear?” I wearily asked.
She gathered breath to resume: “And there’s Lentala. She is to be a queen some day, and very rich. With rank and wealth, she would be a shining woman in America, and her husband would be the happiest man in the world; for with all of that he would have the far richer treasure of her love.”
“A worthy man will come to her some day, Beela.”
“Didn’t you think she was—was fascinating?”
“I do think so.”
“Reflect again, Joseph: Would you prefer her poor, obscure, wild little sister?”
“Yes. But what right have we to make so free with Lentala’s name, especially as she is foreign to the matter?”