"How long have I been here?"
"Only four hours. Now please, don't worry."
"I can't—I can't think—it's all like a terribly dark cloud, Raymond." She stared in a wild fashion and then a look of untold horror crossed her drawn features. "Ah! Yes, yes, I remember now! I remember!" She shook from head to foot. "I remember! The courtroom! And those many men and women! And the ring—our engagement ring—think of that, Raymond! They found blood on it, blood!" And she shivered again.
"Margaret, dearest, you must try to keep quiet," he interrupted soothingly. "It will all come out right, I feel certain of it."
"Right? I don't know what you mean by that word. Was I on trial, or what?"
"No, not on trial. It was simply the coroner's inquest. But don't think of it, dear." He tried to brush back her hair, but she stopped him. The wild look in her eyes was increasing.
"The inquest? Oh, yes, I know now, and they said—they said—" She gave a piercing scream. "They said I had killed her and killed my own father! Yes, that I had killed them! Do you hear, Raymond, I had killed them!" She sat up and motioned him away. "Do not touch me! Do not come near me!"
"Margaret!" he interrupted appealingly.
"No! no! It is too late, too late!" Her voice sank to a hoarse whisper. "I see it all—the blood on the ring, the chloroform, our quarrels, and what she said to me, and then, and then—" She gave another scream. "Go away! go away! You must not come near me again!"
"But Margaret, dear—"