"No, Tommy—not any more now. I know, I know, dear, but it can't go on any more. Now," she added with a momentary relapse of weakness. Then she pulled herself together again. "You must be perfectly quiet and good, now, Tommy, if you stay here. I've got to have a chance to get over this before we go in. It's very important—there's a lot at stake. Just sit there and don't speak a word. You can help me that way."
They sat quietly together for some time. At last Beatrice rose.
"I think I'll go," she said. "I shall be all right now."
"But we can't leave it like this!" protested Tommy. "Beatrice, you can't go up there now...."
"Can't I? I'm going, though."
"No, you've got to give me an answer, Beatrice!"
She turned to him for a moment before walking off. "I can't tell you anything now, Tommy. I don't know. Do you see? I honestly don't know. You'll have to wait."
The hall seemed rather dark as they came into it; the others must have gone to bed. They locked doors and turned out lights and walked upstairs in the dark. They parted at the top with a whispered good-night, almost conspiratorial in effect, Beatrice found James still dressed and sitting under a droplight, reading. He put down his book as she entered and looked at his watch, which lay on the table by him.
"After half-past twelve," he said. "Quite a pleasant evening."
Beatrice made no observation.