A fall or--or a blow--or any shock of--fear or grief--often
ends--in a disaster like this."
"Will the others believe me, too?"
"Of course they will. Don't talk, dear, it's going to be all right."
"I must talk. I've got to tell--I've got to tell _you_. And you can
explain--to the family. You always understand everything--and you never
blame anybody. I often wonder why it is--you're so good yourself--and
yet you never say a word against any living creature, or let anybody
else do it when you're around; but lots of girls, who've--done just what
I have--and didn't happen to get found out--are the ones who speak most
bitterly and cruelly--I know two or three who will be just _glad_ if
they know--"
"They're not going to know."
"Then you will listen, and--and believe me--and _help_?"
"Yes, Edith."
"I thought it happened only in books, or when girls had no one to take
care of them--not to girls with fathers and mothers and good
homes--didn't you, Sylvia?"
"No, dear. I knew it happened sometimes--oh, more often than
_sometimes_--to girls--just like you.
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