"Daisy! Daisy, my darling!" she said, and there was anguish in her own voice. "What is it?"
In a second the sobbing ceased as if some magic had silenced it. Two hands reached up out of the darkness and tightly clasped hers. A broken voice whispered her name.
"What is it?" Muriel repeated in growing distress.
"Hush, dear, hush!" the trembling voice implored. "Don't let Will hear! It worries him so."
"But, my darling,—" Muriel protested.
She began to feel for some matches, but again the nervous hands caught and imprisoned hers.
"Don't—please!" Daisy begged her earnestly. "I—I have something to tell you—something that will shock you unutterably. And I—I don't want you to see my face."
She resisted Muriel's attempt to put her arms about her. "No—no, dear! Hear me first. There! Let me kneel beside you. It will not take me long. It isn't just for my own sake I am going to speak, nor yet—entirely—for yours. You will see presently. Don't ask me anything—please—till I have done. And then if—if there is anything you want to know, I will try to tell you."
"Come and lie beside me," Muriel urged.
But Daisy would not. She had sunk very low beside the bed. For a while she crouched there in silence while she summoned her strength.