"I don't think she would have struck her," I said.
"No? She did once, though. She stabbed Leah with a carving-tool on the wrist. It always sickens me to see that scar. Oh, she has a temper! Poor Leah!"
She lay back on the cushions again and closed her eyes. Her hand had relaxed in mine.
I looked at her, so wearied and pale, and said softly:
"You just drop off to sleep for a little while, and I'll think it over—"
She nerved her body, and pulled herself up.
"Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "I'm dying for sleep, but don't you see I can't? If I should fall asleep who would it be that would awake? It might be she."
"By Jove!" I cried, "I hadn't thought of that!"
"I've thought of nothing else. That's why I've stayed up and kept awake while I am so exhausted. If Leah comes back, she must find me here, and not 'the other one.' I must see her and find out what has happened—we must arrange for everything and decide what plan to adopt to circumvent her. Oh, I must keep awake!" Even as she spoke her head dropped again heavily.
"You can't tell, then, when the change is likely to come?"