Betty fell feverishly a-drowsing as the chill dawn crept stealthily into the room. When she awoke, Noll was still sleeping.
As she sat up in bed, heavy with unfinished sleep, she remembered the letter of the night before. She slipped out of bed and dressed.
She descended gloomy stairways that were still haunted by the lingering shadows of the departed night.
She hurried to Moll Davenant’s quarters.
The leaves were falling from the trees, and their bitter scent filled the air with the pungent fragrance of late autumn.
Betty had not seen Moll for some weeks now—the door had been sternly closed to her knock. But she decided to haunt the threshold until she got admittance.
There was little need for setting the will to a stern resolution. As Betty reached the topmost step of the high climb she paused to take breath; and from within the door she heard the harsh cough that told of the girl’s struggle for life.
She knocked, and, waiting for another fit of coughing to pass, she knocked again.
A dreary pause, and the door opened.
Babette’s face peered round it. She put her finger to her lip and came out on to the landing, kissed Betty, tears in her eyes, and said: