Came a distressed muttering of assent from the girl.
“How sad!” Aggie remarked, in a voice of shocked pity for one so inconceivably unfortunate. “How very, very sad!”
This ingenuous method of diversion was put to an end by the entrance of Mary, who stopped short on seeing the limp figure huddled in the chair.
“A visitor, Agnes?” she inquired.
At the sound of her voice, and before Aggie could hit on a fittingly elegant form of reply, the girl looked up. And now, for the first time, she spoke with some degree of energy, albeit there was a sinister undertone in the husky voice.
“You're Miss Turner?” she questioned.
“Yes,” Mary said, simply. Her words rang kindly; and she smiled encouragement.
A gasp burst from the white lips of the girl, and she cowered as one stricken physically.
“Mary Turner! Oh, my God! I——” She hid her face within her arms and sat bent until her head rested on her knees in an abasement of misery.
Vaguely startled by the hysterical outburst from the girl, Mary's immediate thought was that here was a pitiful instance of one suffering from starvation.