Ralph Henry Barbour

“ It's human nature—not the best part of it, but still human nature, dear. People envied you a brilliant marriage, envied your father's wealth that made such a marriage possible, envied you for your attractions and your youth and your happiness. And when the upset came they were glad of it—for a moment—and didn't hesitate to show it. Now that it is over, they are ready to be as good friends as before.”
“Never!”
“When you are older, Beryl, you'll discover that we have to take our friends as they come, with all their faults, or go without.” ”

“ Vernon quietly; “but later you will find that friends are very necessary, and you will be ready to accept them as the Lord made them, forgiving them many things for the good that is there, besides. We are all very imperfect, Beryl. I suppose that's the only thing that makes any of us lovable.”
Mrs. Vernon folded her towels thoughtfully and sighed. Beryl gazed into the sun-smitten garden beyond the porch with troubled, mutinous eyes. ”

“ Vernon.
“And then”—Beryl shuddered— “to have to—to break it off like that at the eleventh hour! To read all the horrid things the newspapers printed and to hear the nasty, mean things that people—yes, and one's very dearest friends—said about it! It—oh, it's enough to make you hate every one! And as for men—no, you are right; my heart is not broken, Mamma. But—but I think my pride is.”
After a moment Mrs. Vernon said gently: “A pride that is broken so easily, dear, is hardly worth having, I think. ”