"Ask Miss Grahame if she will kindly join me here at once, Susan," was the mandate given to that young woman on her appearance in answer to the summons.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am, but I think Miss Grahame's poorly and is lying down."
"Do as I tell you! Ask her to come to me now!"
A few minutes later, almost as pale as the white dress she had donned to please her employer, Laline entered the room. Suffering had made her super-sensitive; she seemed instantly to be aware of an inimical presence, for she glanced nervously about her before advancing towards Mrs. Vandeleur.
"I—I thought Clare was with you!" she stammered.
"I have just sent her away. I want to talk to you. My dear child, why this avoidance of me? I assure you I am beginning to be hurt. To think that I should have to wait to learn the news of your engagement from the lips of others——"
"Don't—oh, please don't!"
The girl pressed both hands to her burning forehead. She had wept herself into a weak hysterical state, but she was anxious not to break down.
"I meant to write to you to-night," she went on presently, more calmly. "I didn't feel quite equal to talking to you. During the past few days I have lived through several lives of pain and thought, and I feel weak and worn out. Dear Mrs. Vandeleur, you have been so wonderfully kind to me that I wish I could tell you all the truth! The one thing I must tell you is that I must leave your house to-morrow."