"Lise has gone," she said.
"Lise—gone," Edward repeated. "Gone where?"
"She's run away—she's disgraced us," Hannah replied, in a monotonous, dulled voice.
Edward did not seem to understand, and presently Janet felt impelled to break the silence.
"She didn't come home last night, father."
"Didn't come home? Mebbe she spent the night with a friend," he said.
It seemed incredible, at such a moment, that he could still be hopeful.
"No, she's gone, I tell you, she's lost, we'll never lay eyes on her again. My God, I never thought she'd come to this, but I might have guessed it. Lise! Lise! To think it's my Lise!"
Hannah's voice echoed pitifully through the silence of the flat. So appealing, so heartbroken was the cry one might have thought that Lise, wherever she was, would have heard it. Edward was dazed by the shock, his lower lip quivered and fell. He walked over to Hannah's chair and put his hand on her shoulder.
"There, there, mother," he pleaded. "If she's gone, we'll find her, we'll bring her back to you."