"What is it, Nora? Won't you come in?"
She stepped forward, took her by the hand and gently urged her into the room, closing the door.
"Sit on the bed, Nora, while I light the lamp."
"Oh, M's. Lytton, please don't ..."—with an uneasy movement. "I'd rather ... not have to look at you...."
A pause.
"Why, if you want it that way, of course, Nora. Sit down here. Aren't you cold?"
She took a shawl from its hook, threw it across the other's shoulders and sat down on the bed, drawing Nora to her side. An awkward silence followed, then came the sound of Nora's crying, lifted to a pitch just above a sigh.
"Don't, Nora! Please, don't! What is it, now? Tell me ... do tell me," Ann pleaded, growing stronger, of better balance, feeling some of her genuine assurance returning.
"I ... I lied to you. I ..." Nora began and stopped.
Ann uttered no word; just inhaled very slowly and squared her shoulders with relief.