It was disheartening to hear that hope, at her age, began and ended within such narrow limits as these. No prudent man would have tried to persuade her, as I now did, that the idea of reconciliation offered the better hope of the two.
“Suppose I see Mr. Philip Dunboyne when I go back to London,” I began, “what shall I say to him?”
“Say I have forgiven him.”
“And suppose,” I went on, “that the blame really rests, where you all believe it to rest, with Helena. If that young man returns to you, truly ashamed of himself, truly penitent, will you—?”
She resolutely interrupted me: “No!”
“Oh, Eunice, you surely mean Yes?”
“I mean No!”
“Why?”
“Don’t ask me! Good-by till to-morrow.”