She had not been to Twickenham, and had sent no telegram to Fan. Then she read the message and turned the paper over, and read it again and again, glancing at intervals at the girl. Then she went up to her and put her hand on her shoulder. Fan started and shook the hand off, and raised her eyes wet with tears and red with weeping, but still full of anger.
Miss Starbrow caught her by the arm. “Tell me what this means—this telegram; when did you get it, and who gave it to you?” she said in such a tone that the girl was compelled to obey.
“You know when you sent it,” said Fan.
“I never sent it! Oh, my God, can't you understand what I say? Answer—answer my question!”
“Rosie gave it to me.”
“And you went to Twickenham?”
“Yes.”
“And what happened?”
“And the woman you sent to meet me—”
“Hush! don't say that. Are you daft? Don't I tell you I never sent it. Tell me, tell me, or you'll drive me mad!”