Then, suddenly, all her defenses gave way. The teacup fell from her hand and was shattered on the floor, and, burying her head in her arms, she cried as she had never cried in her life.
Mrs. Quelton stood beside her, one hand resting on Lexy’s shoulder. Captain Grey was bending over her, profoundly disturbed. She tried to speak, but she could not.
“Miss Moran!” said Dr. Quelton solicitously. “Will you allow me to give you a mild sedative?”
“No!” she gasped. “No—I want to go home!”
“I’ll telephone for the taxi,” suggested Captain Grey. “He wasn’t coming back until half past five.”
“Unfortunately we have no telephone,” said the doctor; “but I’ll drive Miss Moran home.”
“No! I want to walk.”
“Not in this rain,” the doctor protested, “and in your overwrought condition.”
“I must!” She got up, the tears still streaming down her cheeks. “I must!” she said wildly. “Let me go! Please let me go!”
The doctor turned to Captain Grey. In the midst of her unutterable misery and confusion, Lexy still heard and understood what he was saying.