The passion of the older woman bore her down, made the protest of her young modesty seem a mere trifling and impertinence.

Eleanor had slid to her knees.

Her face had grown tremulous and sweet.

A strange dignity quivered in the smile that transformed her mouth as she caught the girl's reluctant hands and drew them against her breast.
'Is it forbidden to cry out when grief--and loss--go beyond a certain point?
No!--I think not.

I couldn't struggle with you--or plot against you--or hate you.