"Your husband will be here in the morning, dearest," he said softly but distinctly, trying to stimulate her to consciousness.
Some weighty thought was affecting her mind. Her eyes were on Chalfont. She seemed to be making an effort to say something.
"That poor girl ... that nice girl..."
Chalfont bent low, fearful of losing the whispered words.
"What poor girl, dear?"
They thought she said "Maggy."
Lambert arrived at six the next morning. His first concern was to explain breathlessly to Alexandra that he had been detained ... a business matter ... farewell supper.... She would understand.... He had hardly had three hours' sleep before starting. Chalfont and Alexandra could not help exchanging an outraged glance. When she told him that he had come too late his weak mouth opened in surprise. Then his features worked unpleasantly. He stood stupidly, looking as though he were about to burst into tears. Chalfont's tolerance was near its limit. With a set face he indicated the closed door.
"In there," he said.
Lambert hesitated.
"Do you not want to see her?" Chalfont's voice was like steel.