There could be no comparison between the two men.

Millicent Chyne could scarcely hesitate for a moment.

That she herself must likewise suffer uncomplainingly, inevitably, seemed to be an equally natural consequence in Jocelyn Gordon's mind.
She could not go to Jack Meredith and say: "This woman is deceiving you, but I love you, and my love is a nobler, grander thing than hers.

It is no passing fancy of a giddy, dazzled girl, but the deep strong passion of a woman almost in the middle of her life.

It is a love so complete, so sufficing, that I know I could make you forget this girl.