"To-morrow—give me till to-morrow!" she cried. "Perhaps you're right—I must think—I cannot decide now—instantly. There are so many things to consider—the dead as well as the living."
"Very well," I agreed. "I will call to-morrow morning——"
"At eleven—not before."
"To-morrow at eleven, then. And I hope you'll decide, Mrs. Lawrence, to help me all you can. The living come before the dead."
She bowed without replying, and seeing how deadly white she was, I checked the words which rose to my lips and let myself out into the hall.
The maid was standing just outside the door. I wondered how much she had heard of what had passed within.
"One moment," I said, as she started for the stairway, and I stepped again into Miss Lawrence's room.
It had grown too dark there to see anything distinctly, for this room was not flooded, as her mother's had been, by the last rays of the sun, but in a moment I switched on the light. The maid stared from the threshold, her face dark with anger, but not daring to interfere.
"This is the dressing-table, isn't it?" I asked, walking toward it.
"Yes, sir," she answered sullenly.