One might have said, if
one were hardened enough, that had the young woman "possessed an
ounce of sense" she would not have made herself penniless, an
outcast, and so suffered because she could not escape quickly from
an environment well-nigh poignant enough to turn her brain.
She was days in recovering from the shock of the appearance of the
real Ida May Bostwick at the Ball homestead. And those hours of
torture that had followed had eaten like acid into Sheila's soul.
She had by no means recovered herself when Tunis had his brief
interview with her. Had she not shut herself away from him--refused
to even discuss the situation with the troubled skipper of the
_Seamew_--she must have broken down, given way to that womanly
weakness born of love for the man of her choice.
For Sheila knew how Tunis Latham suffered. She felt that her course
was right; nevertheless she fully appreciated how keen the blow of
her decision fell upon the partner in her sin.
A sin it was--almost, it seemed to her now, an unpardonable crime.
To seize upon another girl's identity; to usurp another's chance; to
foist herself upon the unsuspecting and kindly souls at the Ball
homestead in a way that raised for them a happiness that was merely
a phantom--the thought of it all was now a draught of which the
dregs were very, very bitter.
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