Clare considered.
"That, of course—I can't prevent. But Miss Vigers—forgive me—but—don't let your sense of responsibility make you unfair. And for heaven's sake, don't let my vague uneasiness—it's really nothing more—affect your judgment. We may both be utterly mistaken. I am sure the result of the inquest will prove us mistaken after all—it will be found to have been an accident."
Henrietta closed her lips obstinately.
Clare rose in her place.
"It was an accident!" she cried passionately. "In my heart I am sure. I wish I'd never said anything to you. I'd no right to be suspicious. Think of what Miss Durand's feelings would be if she realised——" She flung out her hands appealingly. "Oh, we're two overwrought women, aren't we? Sitting in the dusk and scaring ourselves with bogies. It was an accident, Miss Vigers—a tragic accident! Make yourself think so! Make me think so too!" Her beautiful eyes implored comfort.
Henrietta, quite touched, patted her awkwardly on the arm. She enjoyed her transient superiority.
"Of course, of course, we'll try to think so. Now you must go home. You are quite overwrought. It will be a trying day for us all to-morrow. I shall go to bed early too. Won't you go home now?"
Clare nodded, mute, grateful. She went to her peg, and took down her hat and jacket.
"Have you finished with Miss Durand? She was going home with me."
"Oh! Miss Durand!" Henrietta's tone grew crisper. "Yes, of course. I'll see if she has done. I'll send her to you. And you mustn't let yourself worry, Miss Hartill. Leave it all to me. These things are more my province. Good-night!" said Henrietta cordially.