“Jim,” she said—“I hear Jim’s voice—”
In some such fashion she maundered on. Blanche, vigorous being that she was, shuddered as though a cold wind played upon her bosom. She reached for the glass, gulped down some brandy, coughed, and called to the girl without the door.
“Florence! Florence!”
The door opened a very little and a white face peered in.
“Yes, miss.”
“How long—”
“How long, miss?”
“Oh, you fool. How long has John been?”
“Half an hour, miss.”
“Oh, my God, only half an hour!”