Marshall-Smith, with none of the acidity the words
themselves seemed to indicate. She seemed indeed genuinely perplexed.
"It's not been exactly a hilarious element in _my_ life either. But
I've always tried to hold on to Arnold. I thought it my duty. And now,
since Felix Morrison has found this excellent specialist for me, it's
much easier. I telegraph to him and he comes at once and takes Arnold
back to his sanitarium, till he's himself again." For the first time
in weeks Morrison's name brought up between them no insistently
present, persistently ignored shadow. The deeper shadow now blotted
him out.
"But Aunt Victoria, it's for Judith to decide. _She_'ll do the right
thing."
"Sometimes people are thrown by circumstances into a situation where
they wouldn't have dreamed of putting themselves--and yet they rise to
it and conquer it," philosophized Aunt Victoria. "Life takes hold of
us with strong hands and makes us greater than we thought. Judith will
_mean_ to do the right thing. If she were married, she'd _have_ to do
it! It seems to me a great responsibility you take, Sylvia--you may,
with the best of intentions in the world, be ruining the happiness of
two lives."
Sylvia got up, her eyes red with unshed tears. It was not the first
time that morning. "It's all too horrible," she murmured. "But I
haven't any right to conceal it from Judith."
Her eyes were still red when, an hour later, she stepped into the room
again and said, "I've mailed it.
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