Alice could barely distinguish the form which agitated the darkness with its quiet. The two women felt for each other through the gloom. They were like water insects fumbling with antennæ.
"Mamma! Is that you?" Alice sat up straight in bed.
Mrs. Farley, her heart beating unevenly, felt the harsh stiffening of Alice's outline against the white blot of the sheet.
Mrs. Farley tried to speak. She felt as though the darkness were binding her lips with gray transparent folds of shadow tough as silk. "Yes."
"What's the matter?" Alice threw the sheet back and stood up on the floor. Half seen, she upreared enormously like a wraith.
"Your father isn't home yet," Mrs. Farley said.
"Well, what of it?"
"I know where he is." Mrs. Farley's voice sounded cracked.
"Then you ought not to worry."
"He's with that woman." Mrs. Farley's words clacked like castanets in trembling hands; then fell soundless.