A memory of the daring little figure in white flashed back, and a flood of pity submerged Virginia’s heart. William’s cry, “I’m done with her!”—how incredibly cruel it would have seemed here!
Still she did not move or speak, and Virginia touched her gently.
“Fanchon!” she said softly.
Very slowly Fanchon rose on her elbow and looked at the visitor. The fawn-like eyes were no longer soft; there was a smoldering fire in them, and the delicate brows came down above them. The small white face was distorted with an emotion that seemed to shake her from head to foot.
“Why do you come here?” she asked sharply. “What do you want of me?”
Virginia’s blush deepened painfully.
“I came because I heard you were ill and in trouble,” she replied kindly, her voice trembling a little.
Fanchon drew herself up farther into a sitting attitude, her knees under her chin and her hands clasping them. Her eyes still lowered at Virginia, and the whiteness of her face against her loose, dark hair had an almost weird effect.
“Why do you care for that?” she asked slowly. “Why do you want to see how far I’m down?”
Her tone and her glance alike conveyed almost an insult, and certainly a defiance; yet she was so weak that the other girl saw her tremble from head to foot, as if she had an ague. Again Virginia blushed, but this time she raised her head proudly.