The door closed heavily behind his indignant back, and Elsie turned a little wearily to Sylvia, bracing herself for an explanation that would be as hard as her recent battle. The mockery had died out of her voice and the laughter out of her eyes.
"Shall I go and see if the Seraph's awake yet?" she temporised, "or would you prefer to leave a message?"
Sylvia tried to speak, but no words would come—only a dry, choking sob of utter misery and disillusionment. With hasty steps she crossed to the door and fumbled blindly for the handle.
"Miss Roden! Sylvia!"
"Don't call me that!"
"I'm sorry. Miss Roden, I've got something to say to you!"
"I don't want to hear it, I only want to get away!"
"You must listen, your whole life's at stake—and the Seraph's, too."
The mention of his name brought her to a momentary standstill.
"What is it?" she demanded.