It was better to be thus tormented by conscience and by hopelessness than to lose her cause of pain.
One consolation Beatrice had and one only: she knew that Geoffrey did not forget her.

His letters told her this.

These letters indeed were everything to her--a woman can get so much more comfort out of a letter than a man.

Next to receiving them she loved to answer them.

She was a good and even a brilliant letter writer, but often and often she would tear up what she had written and begin again.