I stammered something or other. My errand, difficult as it had been from the first, now seemed impossible. I had come there to say certain things—I had made up my mind to say them; but how was I to say such things to a girl as ill as this one was. I would not have said them to Strickland Morley himself, under such circumstances.
“I—I am very sorry you are not well, Miss Morley,” I faltered.
She thanked me, but there was no warmth in the thanks.
“I am not well,” she said; “but that need make no difference. I presume you and this—this lady are prepared to make a definite proposition to me. I am well enough to hear it.”
Hephzy and I looked at each other. I looked for help, but Hephzy's expression was not helpful at all. It might have meant anything—or nothing.
“Miss Morley,” I began. “Miss Morley, I—I—”
“Well, sir?”
“Miss Morley, I—I don't know what to say to you.”
She rose to a sitting posture. Hephzy again tried to restrain her, but this time she would not be restrained.
“Don't know what to say?” she repeated. “Don't know what to say? Then why did you come here?”