She supposed it was her fault--people had to be what they were, she supposed.

Miss Marlay must excuse her, though.

She hadn't quite got her books packed, and the stage would be along in an hour.

She would be glad if Isabel would tell Mr.Charlton privately, if she had a chance, how sorry she felt for him.

But please not say anything that would compromise her, though.
And Isa Marlay went out of the hotel full of indignation at the cool-blooded Helen, and full of a fathomless pity for Albert, a pity that made her almost love him herself.