The question was asked with infinite delicacy, head and body bent forward, eyes floatingly averted.
'Really ill, I'm afraid. She has fainted several times—yesterday was unconscious for nearly half an hour.'
Sibyl flinched. Mention of physical suffering affected her most disagreeably; she always shunned the proximity of people in ill health, and a possibility of infection struck her with panic.
'Oh, I'm so sorry. But it will pass over.'
'I hope so. I have done what I could.'
'I'm sure you have.'
'But it's so hard—when every word of comfort sounds heartless—when it's kindest to say nothing——'
'We won't talk about it, dear. You yourself—I can see what you have gone through. You must get away as soon as possible; this gloomy weather makes everything worse.'
She paused, and with an air of discreet interest awaited Alma's reply.
'Yes, I hope to get away. I shall see if it's possible.'