"It is all over—all over."
"Nothing to be afraid of, I s'pose, unless you believe in ghosts or such things."
Sybil's face changed; she dropped her hands; the color came back to her cheek—she laughed outright, a defiant, mocking sound.
"Not at all; no ghost will trouble me—not even his."
"Tell me a little how things go on."
The woman drew closer to her visitor, and inclined her head to listen attentively. Sybil talked for many moments in a voice sunk almost to a whisper, as if dropping hints to which she dared not give utterance aloud.
Her companion noted every word and movement, while a bad, malignant expression crept over her face, till it seemed impossible that it should ever have looked comely or pleasant. Sometimes she nodded her head approvingly; once she laughed outright. Sybil put up her hand to check the merriment, which would have grated harshly upon a less well-attuned ear than hers.
"I must go now," Miss Chase said, at last; "I shall not get back by dinner-time as it is."
"I ought to be there," the woman exclaimed; "there is so much I could do."