She was sorry when Miss Gallifer came back, though there was no help for that; but Miss Gallifer was obtrusive only when she chatted or moved about. For much of the time she pursued the secret of Violet Pryde with such assiduity that the room became quiescent, and communion with Rash could be re-established.
The awesome silence was disturbed only by the turning of Miss Gallifer’s pages. It might have been three o’clock. Once more Barbara was lost in the unaccustomed hush, her eyes fixed on the white face on the pillow, in almost hypnotic restfulness. The pushing open of the door behind was so soft that she didn’t notice. Miss Gallifer turned another page.
It was the sense that someone was in the room which made Barbara glance over her shoulder and Miss Gallifer look up. A little gray figure in a battered black hat stood just within the door. She stood just within the door, but with no consciousness of anything or anyone in the room. She saw only the upturned face and its deathlike fixity.
With slow, spellbound movement she began to come forward. Barbara, who had never seen the Letty who used to be, knew her now only by a terrified intuition. Miss Gallifer was entirely at a loss, and somewhat indignant. The little gray vagrant was 339 not of the type she had been used to treating with respect.
“What are you doing here?” she asked quickly, as soon as speech came to her.
Letty didn’t look at her, or remove her eyes from the face on the pillow. A woman in a trance could not have spoken with greater detachment or self-control. “I came—to see.”
“Well, now that you’ve seen, won’t you please go away, before I call the police?”
Of this Letty took no notice, going straight to the bedside, while Miss Gallifer moved toward Barbara, who stood as she had risen from her chair.
“Do you know who she is?” Miss Gallifer asked, with curiosity greater than her indignation.
Barbara nodded. “Yes, I know who she is. I thought she’d—disappeared.”