It was the first time she was going there alone; but she had been through what had seemed to her a time of measureless suffering this last fortnight, and now had come the breaking point. She felt she must see Harry Garlett—and alone.
“Jean! Jean! Stop!”
It was Miss Prince’s familiar voice, and unwillingly the girl turned and stood at bay.
“You mustn’t go to the Thatched House this morning, my dear.”
A feeling of exasperated anger filled Jean’s already overburdened heart.
“I have something very important to tell Harry before he starts for the factory,” she said quickly.
“I doubt if you’ll find him at home. He probably slept at the factory——”
The older woman looked into the girl’s flushed, rebellious face, with genuine pity and concern.
“I think you ought to know, my dear, that the police came out to the Thatched House while Harry was out last evening. They ransacked everything, and turned out every drawer in the place.”
“Why—why did they do that?” asked Jean falteringly.