She sat up, slowly emptied the glass that Claire placed in her trembling hand, then buttoned her collar over her bare throat, and began to pin up the locks of hair that had fallen about her face and neck. Her hands, she thought, were very thin and white. She had never fainted before, and was still a little frightened and surprised.
“What does it all mean, Marion?” demanded Huntington.
“Wait, Seth, can’t you?” warned Claire. Then to Marion: “There’s no hurry, dear. When you feel better.”
But her eyes denied her words. There was indeed no way out of it. Marion must speak, and without delay.
“I’m cold,” she said, shivering.
“Of course!” cried Claire. “Come to the fire. And Seth! Close the door, please!”
Huntington strode to the door, and slammed it shut. Then he returned to the chimney piece, and watched Marion as she leaned toward the blaze. He could barely restrain himself, waiting for her to begin.
“I’ve been a silly fool, I suppose,” she said presently, sitting erect again, and facing her cousins courageously. “It was all my fault. You mustn’t blame him.”
An impatient exclamation by Huntington drew a warning glance from Claire.