"What way?" asked Grace uncertainly. "That sigh, do you mean?"
"Yes," nodded Betty. "You sounded rather mournful and that is exactly the way I feel. What's the matter with us, anyway? Where are our spirits?"
"I suppose we couldn't expect to feel joyful," said Grace after a little pause. "We aren't going, so far as I can see, on a very happy errand, you know."
"But I don't think it is that alone," said Betty, with a shake of her head. "I feel as if we were going to see something perfectly dreadful--"
"Betty," Grace looked at her in sudden alarm, her eyes wide, "you don't suppose that the professor could have done anything--anything rash, do you?"
"You mean--" said Betty, hesitating before the ugly word. "Oh, Grace, you don't mean--suicide, do you?"
Grace nodded and tried hard not to look as frightened as she felt.
"No, I--I don't think so," said Betty, grasping the wheel with hands that somehow seemed suddenly weak. "If I thought anything like that had happened I wouldn't have the courage to go on."
"Well, I don't believe I have--the courage, I mean," said Grace, irresolutely. "Don't you think we had better go back, Betty? It's so lonesome here and--and--everything--"
Her voice was rising to something like a wail, and Betty, striving to throttle her own misgivings, spoke in a voice that was intended to be reassuring.