"No, you won't; I don't feel as if anything could happen to make me cry to-day. Hullo! there's Major Wyndham's horse out there."
Honor started.
"What can he want over here so early? Come in quick and find out."
They hurried through the hall into the dining-room, Evelyn leading, a swift premonition of evil killing the laughter on their lips.
Paul stood by the piano looking at Desmond's photograph; his arms folded; his "February face" more eloquent than he knew.
"Good-morning, Mrs Desmond," he said; and his sympathetic hand-clasp sent her mercurial spirits down to zero.
"What is it?" she asked, blanching visibly. "You have brought bad news?"
Paul assented in silence.
"If it is very horrible—don't tell me—I won't hear it!" She held up both hands, as if warding off a blow. But Honor, coming quickly forward, put both arms round her.