"The doctor has been here to see you, but you didn't wake, and we both felt it was better not to disturb you. He thinks that all is going well with you. Will you drink some milk, and let me bathe your face and hands?"
"No—not—not yet. Have you really been here—all these hours?"
"Yes, dear."
"With no rest—nothing to eat or drink?"
"Oh, yes, Austin brought me my dinner, but I ate it sitting beside you, and wouldn't let him stay—he's so big, he can't help making a noise."
"Does he know?"
"Not yet."
"And father and mother?"
Sylvia was silent.
"Oh, Sylvia, I'm a wicked, wicked girl, but I'm not what you must think! I'm not a—a murderess! Peter came up behind me on the stairs in the dark last night, and spoke to me suddenly. It startled me—everything seems to have startled me lately—and I slipped, and fell, and hurt myself—I didn't do it on purpose."