"
It was Betty who now lost a shade of colour. But she held the slim
little body closer and kissed her sister's cheek.
"What have you been afraid and ashamed to tell me? Do not be ashamed any
more. You must not hide anything, no matter what it is, Rosy. I shall
understand."
"I know I must not hide anything, now that all is over and father is
coming. It is--it is about Mr. Ffolliott."
"Mr. Ffolliott?" repeated Betty quite softly.
Lady Anstruthers' face, lifted with desperate effort, was like a weeping
child's. So much so in its tear-wet simpleness and utter lack of any
effort at concealment, that after one quick look at it Betty's hastened
pulses ceased to beat at double-quick time.
"Tell me, dear," she almost whispered.
"Mr. Ffolliott himself does not know--and I could not help it. He was
kind to me when I was dying of unkindness. You don't know what it was
like to be drowning in loneliness and misery, and to see one good hand
stretched out to help you. Before he went away--oh, Betty, I know it was
awful because I was married!--I began to care for him very much, and I
have cared for him ever since. I cannot stop myself caring, even though
I am terrified."
Betty kissed her again with a passion of tender pity.
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