She replied, through the closed door, that she was ill, and did not wish any, and returned to her crouching posture on the floor, as if she found a grim pleasure in physical discomfort, as a set-off to her mental trouble.
She felt angry with herself for the fairness that had won Julius Revington's love.
"If I had been homely and ill-shapen, instead of fair and graceful, he would never have loved me, and he might then have given me those papers for pure pity's sake, with no such condition attached," she told herself, sadly.
Two hours later Mrs. Leslie came tapping softly at the door.
"You must let me in, Irene, for I shall keep 'tapping, tapping,' like the raven, until you do," she called out gaily.
With a smothered sigh Irene admitted her friend.
"What, all in darkness? I beg your pardon, I did not know you had retired," exclaimed the lady.
Irene struck a light and then Mrs. Leslie gazed in wonder at the pale, haggard face.
"My dear child, what is the matter with you?" she cried out in wonder.