A spasm contracted Harlenden's face, but he asked no question. Silently they went from the house and into the dark streets. There was no moon. At her gate, he stooped and kissed her lips.
Mrs. Ozanne got up the morning of the following day with the urgent feeling on her of something to be done. It seemed as if there were some move to be made that would help her and her children in their unhappiness, only she didn't know what the move was. But she always remembered, afterward, with what feverish urgency she dressed, putting on walking-things instead of a wrapper, and stepping from her room into the bustling atmosphere of the house with a determined indifference to the tasks and interests that usually occupied her attention.
Rosalie was as surprised to see her mother dressed for going out as was the mother to find her daughter at the breakfast-table.
"Why, Rosalie, my darling, this is an unexpected joy!"
"Yes, mother; I thought I would make an effort."
It was the first time that the girl had been out of her room for over two weeks, and she looked frail as a snowdrop, and nearly as white.
"You can't have two daughters sick abed, you know," she added, with a wistful smile.
"Is Rosanne still——" Mrs. Ozanne often left questions and remarks about her other daughter unfinished.
The latter had spent the whole of the previous day in her room, seeming physically unable to leave her bed.
"Yes; I'm afraid she's really ill. She just lies there, not speaking or eating, and she looks—oh, mother, she looks so unhappy!"