"She was after you, of course," said Alicia. "Tennis party on Monday. She wants you to balance young Truscott. I just told her so. We shall all go. You'll go, Hilda. She'll be delighted. I should have brought her along only she was in such a hurry."
Hilda enquired:
"Who is Mrs. Rotherwas?"
"Her husband's a big coal-owner at Cardiff. But she's a niece or something of the governor of Dartmoor prison, and she's apparently helping to keep house for dear uncle just now. They'll take us over the prison before tennis. It's awfully interesting. Harry and I have been once."
"Oh!" murmured Hilda, staggered.
"Now about this 'ere woire," said Harry. "What price this?" He handed over the message which he had just composed. It was rather long, and on the form was left space for only two more words.
Hilda could not decipher it. She saw the characters with her eyes, but she was incapable of interpreting them. All the time she thought:
"I shall go to that prison. I can't help it. I shan't be able to keep from going. I shall go to that prison. I must go. Who could have imagined this? I am bound to go, and I shall go."
But instead of objecting totally to the despatch of the telegram, she said in a strange voice:
"It's very nice of you."