Mrs. Boatwright was calling out, apparently to Betty, something about taking a chair on the farther side of the room. There was a stir of confusion; but above it Brachey's voice rose sharply:
“Read, please, Dr. Cassin!”
Soberly they listened. After beginning the postscript, Dr. Cassin stopped short; then, slowly, with considerable effort, read the announcement of Griggsby Duane's death.
Then the room was still.
Mrs. Boatwright was the first to speak; gently for her, and unsteadily, though the strong will that never failed this vigorous woman carried her along without a sign of hesitation.
“Mary,” she said, addressing Miss Hemphill, “you had better go up-stairs with Betty.”
Dr. Cassin, ignoring this, or perhaps only half-hearing it (her eyes were brimming) broke in with:
“Mr. Brachey, you must have come here with some definite plan or purpose. Will you please tell us what it is?”
“No!” cried Mrs. Boatwright—“no! If you please, Mary, this man must not stay here. Betty!... Betty, dear!”
Betty did not even turn. She was staring out the window into the peaceful sunflecked courtyard, the tears running unheeded down her cheeks, her hand twisted tightly in Brachey's. He spoke now, in the cold voice, very stiff and constrained, that masked his feelings.