“Nobody says, ‘must’ to me,” she answered, in a tone that chilled me.
“Vera! Vera!” I exclaimed, dismayed at her strange manner, “what is the matter? What has happened to you, darling? Why are you like this? Don’t you need my help now? You told me on the telephone that you did.”
“On the telephone? When was that?”
“Why, not three weeks ago. Surely you remember? It was the last time we spoke to each other. You had begun to tell me your address, when suddenly we were cut off.”
I saw her knit her brows, as though trying to remember. Then, all at once, memory seemed to return.
“Ah, yes,” she exclaimed, more in her ordinary voice. “I recollect. I wanted your help then. I needed it badly, but now—”
“Well, what?” I said anxiously, as she checked herself.
“It’s too late—now,” she whispered. My arm was about her thin waist, and I felt that she shuddered.
“Vera, what has happened? Tell me—oh, tell me, dearest!”
I took both her small hands in mine. I was seriously alarmed, for there was a strange light in her eyes.