Om. Already Daisy had guessed that there was something disgraceful.
Daisy remembered, too, that after Diana's supposed death her husband had
come to England. And then for one moment Jeannie's spirit rose in
impotent revolt against the bitter cruelty of this chance by which Daisy
had seen Diana's photograph. She herself, perhaps, had been careless and
culpable, in putting it on her table; but she had been so preoccupied
with all the perplexities of this last week that the danger had not ever
so faintly occurred to her. But now by this fatal oversight Daisy had
already guessed perilously near the truth. She herself could invent no
story to account for these things, and if Daisy was told the whole
truth, of which she guessed so much, that other bitterness, the sense
that Jeannie had cruelly betrayed her, would be removed. She could
comfort Daisy again, and (this was sweet to herself also) show her how
she loved her. She had done her very best to keep her promise to Diana,
and she had no
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