Salis knew that she turned upon him very sharply, but he could not see her face.
“Under a promise to Mary? There, if anything is to be said, say it.”
Salis drew in his breath sharply, and the words came rushing to his lips, but he mastered the passion within him, and walked to the door to open it.
A dim twilight now faintly filled the hall, showing the curate’s figure framed in the doorway. Then he stood aside, holding the way open.
“Go!” he said.
“Sent to bed like a naughty child,” she cried, in a harsh, mocking voice, which feebly hid the anger and defiance by which she was nerved.
Salis made no reply, nor did he speak again for some moments.
“Go to your room,” he said again, more sternly.
Leo made an angry gesture as if she would resist. Then, giving a childish, petulant stamp upon the floor, she walked quickly by him and ascended the stairs, Salis following closely behind.
As they reached the landing, it was to find Mary’s door open, and that the half-helpless invalid had dragged herself there, to stand clinging to the side.