Martha bent over her.
The morning light entered dimly, through closed curtains.
In dumb anguish of mind, she looked up into Martha's grim old face.
"Tell me where you have laid him," she said, "and I will take him away."
Martha snorted.
"I've laid your tea-tray on the table beside your bed, Miss," she said; "and when you 'ave finished with it, I will take it away."
Whereupon, Martha lumbered to the large bow-window, drew back all the curtains with a vigorous clatter of brass rings, and let in a blaze of morning sunshine.
Christobel lay quite still, trying to collect her thoughts.
One of her pillows was clasped tightly in her arms.
She lifted her left hand, and looked at it.