But the hope hardly fluttered its wings before her reason struck it
dead. No, there was no way out there. The fact was too plain that one of
her two good friends, under what pressure she could not guess, had
consented to commit dishonor and, by the same stroke, to wound her so
deeply. For no honest explanation was possible; there was no argument in
the case to-day that was not equally potent a month ago. It was all a
story of cajolery or intimidation from the formidable opposition, and of
mean yielding in the places of responsibility. And--yes--She felt it as
bad for one of her two friends to be so stained as another. It had come
to that. At last she must admit that they stood upon level ground in her
imagination, the nameless little Doctor of two years back side by side
with the beau ideal of all her girlhood. One's honor was as dear to her
as another's; one's friendship as sweet; and now one of them was her
friend no more.
And it was not West whom she must cast out. There was no peg anywhere to
hang even the smallest suspicion of him upon. She scourged her mind for
seeking one.
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