It was her despair that she had known Emily so slightly; she would have desired to study to the depths the woman who had possessed such a secret of power.
In personal charm Emily could not compare with her; and yet--the distinction struck her hard--that was perhaps only true if personal charm merely meant charm of person, for she herself had experienced something of the strange impressiveness which men--men of imagination--submitted to in Emily's presence.

Where did it lie, this magic?
It was indefinite, indefinable; perhaps a tone of the voice represented it, perhaps a smile--which meant, of course, that it was inseparable from her being, from her womanhood.

Could one attribute to Emily, even after the briefest acquaintance, a thought, an instinct, which conflicted with the ideal of womanly purity?
Was not her loveliness of the soul?
Moreover, she was intellectual beyond ordinary women; for Wilfrid that must have been a rich source of attraction.
Scarcely less than the image of Wilfrid himself was that of Emily a haunting presence in Beatrice's life.

Recently she had spoken of her both with Mrs.Birks and Mrs.Baxendale; it cost her something to do so, but both of these had known Emily with intimacy, and might perhaps tell her more than she herself remembered or could divine.

Mrs.Birks was disposed to treat Emily with little seriousness.
'You make the strangest mistake,' she said, 'if you think that was anything but a boy's folly.