He would understand, when she told him that one of the first things which had struck her, had been that Rosy herself, her helplessness and timidity, might, for a period at least, form obstacles in their path of action.

He not only loved Rosy, but realised how slight a sweet thing she had always been, and he would know how far a slight creature's gentleness might be overpowered and beaten down.
There was so much that her mother must be spared, there was indeed so little that it would be wise to tell her, that Bettina sat gently rubbing her forehead as she thought of it.

The truth was that she must tell her nothing, until all was over, accomplished, decided.

Whatsoever there was to be "over," whatsoever the action finally taken, must be a matter lying as far as possible between her father and herself.

Mrs.
Vanderpoel's trouble would be too keen, her anxiety too great to keep to herself, even if she were not overwhelmed by them.