Then she caught her breath. It was as if she had shot suddenly to the surface of some black pool, and gasped in air again.
"Will you go with me to London?" she asked in that dead voice, keeping her eyes on the paper.
Susan went pale.
"Oh, child!... Think a minute...." she protested.
"Well ... if I must go alone...." said Sophy, and as she spoke she got to her feet.
"No, no!—You shall never go alone, Sophy!"
"Then you'll come?"
"Yes," said Susan despairingly. She felt there was no use in arguing it, yet as she went upstairs with Sophy to change her gown, she tried once more. "Sophy, darling— I know— I understand how you feel," she said. "But think, dear—think what it would be if some one saw you ... there.... If it got to Lady Wychcote's ears.... Oh, child!... I'm so mortally afraid of some dreadful tragedy coming out of all this for you...."
"Don't you think the tragedy's dreadful enough as it is?" asked Sophy rather wildly. She looked for a moment as if she were about to break into crazy laughter. Then she held her face tight in both hands.
"Go and dress...." she muttered thickly after a second. "Go and order the carriage.... There's a train in twenty minutes.... It will take us more than ten minutes to drive to the station...."