"It's true. She's gone. My little girl is gone. I could curse God." She spoke in a low, emotionless voice. "Why should He have taken her in this way? What have we done to deserve this cruelty? Why couldn't He have let her die in my arms, with her head upon my breast,—where it belongs?"
"Don't give up—yet," he stammered, confounded by this amazing exhibition of self-control. "There is a chance,—yes, there is a chance, Mrs. Vick. Don't give up. Be—be brave."
She shook her head. "She is dead," came from her stiff lips, and that was all.
He laid his arm across her shoulder. "I wish to God it was me instead of her," he cried fervently. "I would take her place—willingly, Mrs. Vick."
"I—I know you would, Courtney," said she, looking into his eyes. "You were her best friend. She adored you. I know you would,—God bless you!"
He looked away. His gaze fell upon Alix, standing in the door. His eyes brightened. The hunted expression left them. An eager, hungry light came into them. She was staring at him. Gradually he came to the realization that she was looking at him with unspeakable horror.
Mrs. Vick was speaking. He hardly heard a word she uttered.
"It was kind of you to come, Courtney. Thank you. I must go now. I—I can't stand it,—I can't stand it!"
She left him abruptly. Alix stood aside to allow her to pass through the door. They heard her go up the stairs, heavily, hurriedly.
"Alix!" he whispered, holding out his hands.