The Three Sisters

by May Sinclair

She recovered. "Of course he did. Jim Greatorex wasn't there, anyhow."

"He was not."

The stress had no significance for Ally. Her brain was utterly bewildered.

"Well. You say you were never anywhere with Greatorex before December.
You were not with him in—when was it, Mary?"

"August," said Mary. "The end of August."

Ally simply stared at him in her white bewilderment. Dates had no meaning as yet for her cowed brain.

He helped her.

"In the Three Fields. On a Sunday afternoon. Did you or did you not go into the barn?"

At that she cried out with a voice of anguish. "No—No—No!"

But Mary had her knife ready and she drove it home.