Claudine smiled mechanically, but her knees were weak, and she sank down on the bed.
“What is it, dear?” she asked.
“It’s very hard,” said Andrée. “It’s going to hurt you....”
“Don’t keep me waiting,” her mother said, almost sharply. “Tell me, Andrée!”
Andrée sat down beside her, and lifted one of her mother’s hands, looking at it with curious abstraction. Claudine didn’t stir.
“Now it’s come,” she thought. “That horrible, nameless disaster I have always dreaded for this creature I love too much. This will be something I cannot endure.”
At last Andrée’s voice came, steady and low.
“You remember Mr. Stephens, don’t you, Mother?”
“Yes ...” she murmured.
“We’re going to be married to-morrow.”