"Oh, my dear! What is it?"
"It's her heart. I thought it was her spine, because of Edie. But it isn't. She has valvular disease. Oh, Fanny, I didn't think a little child could have it."
"Nor I," said Mrs. Eliott, shocked into a great calm. "But surely—if you take care—"
"No. He gives no hope. He only says a few years, if we leave Scale and take her into the country. She must never be overtired, never excited. We must never vex her. He says one violent crying fit might kill her. And she cries so easily. She cries sometimes till she's sick."
Mrs. Eliott's face had grown white; she trembled, and was dumb before the anguish of Anne's face.
But it was Anne who rose, and put her arms about the childless woman, and kissed and comforted her.
It was as if she had said: Thank God you never had one.
CHAPTER XXXI
The rumour which was going the round of the clubs in due time reached Lady Cayley through the Ransomes. It roused in her many violent and conflicting emotions.