Suspense, Volume III by Henry Seton Merriman

In Suffolk Mansions the absence of Alice Huston left a less perceptible vacuum than that lady would have imagined. Mrs. Wylie was intensely relieved that the young widow had, so to speak, struck out a line of her own -- wherever that line might tend to lead her. Brenda was less philosophical. She tried to persuade herself that her sister's presence had been a pleasure, and, like all pleasures withdrawn, had left a blank behind it. But the pretence was at its best a sorry one. It is a lamentable fact that propinquity is the most powerful factor in human loves, hatreds, and friendships. The best of friends, the most affectionate sisters, cannot live apart for a few years without fostering the growth of an intangible, silent barrier which forces its way up between them, and which we lightly call a lack of mutual interest. What is love but 'mutual interest'?

Brenda, who was herself the soul of loyalty, stood mentally aghast over the ruins of her great unselfish love. She imagined it dead, but this was not the case. In a heart like that of Brenda Gilholme, love never dies. It is only in our hearts, my brothers, and in those of a very few women that this takes place. The sisterly love was living still, but it was little else than the mere tie of blood or the result of a few mutual friendships in the past. The two women had drifted apart upon the broad waters of life.