“Stop a moment; you said he was going to wait.”
“Till I can give him news of you.”
“Yes; then you must keep him quiet for a day or two, till I have had time to think.”
“There is no time.”
“Give me till to-morrow, Claire. Don’t you see I am all confused, and mad with grief?”
“Till to-morrow?” said Claire, gazing at her, for it was like a respite to her as well, in her horrible doubt and confusion of intellect.
“Yes, till to-morrow. I will shut myself up in my room till then, and try and think out what will be best. There, go now. I can’t talk to you; I can’t think; I can’t do anything till you are gone; and I must have time.”
Claire left her at last unwillingly, but with the understanding that May was to stay in her own room till the next day, and await her return.
“It will all come right at last, Claire,” said May, at parting. “It always does, dear. There, don’t fidget. It’s very tiresome of him to come now; but I don’t know: perhaps it’s all for the best.”
She kissed Claire affectionately at parting; and the latter sighed as she hurried home, struggling with herself as to how she should make all this known to her father.