She had risen to her feet and approached Marion. The girl seemed to shrink back; it looked as if she was being dragged into some painful undertaking. Then the natural sweetness of her disposition conquered her dislike.
"If you think I can manage it," she said.
Mrs. May hobbled upstairs, leaning on Marion's shoulder, chatting gaily. The latter helped her into the room set apart for the involuntary guest and at a sign closed the door. All her smiles and pretty feminine blandishments vanished; her eyes were dark and hard; her manner was cold and stinging.
"You fool," hissed Mrs. May. "This is a nice thing you have done!"
Marion smiled wearily. She seemed to have suddenly fallen under the mantle of years. She dropped into a chair like somebody old and weary.
"What have I done?" she asked.
"Fallen in love with Geoffrey Ravenspur."
The words came like a blow. Marion staggered under them.
"I deny it," she said weakly. "It is false."