“There’s going to be such a fuss!” she thought. “If there’s anything I loathe, it’s a fuss.”
And all the time, under her cool and sensible exterior, she was frightened. She felt that after all she was very young, and very inexperienced, in a world where things—anything—things beyond her knowledge—might happen.
She knocked upon the door lightly—so lightly that no one heard her; and she had to knock again. This time Mrs. Enderby opened the door.
“Well?” she asked, not very amiably.
“I thought I ought to tell you—” Lexy began; and still she hesitated, moved by the unaccountable feeling that this might be treachery to Caroline.
“Tell me what?” asked Mrs. Enderby. “Come, if you please, Miss Moran! Tell me at once!”
“Caroline’s gone.”
The words were spoken. Lexy waited in great alarm, wondering if Mrs. Enderby would faint or scream.
The lady did neither. She came out into the corridor, shutting the door of her room behind her, and her first word and her only word was:
“Hush!”