'
'All right. Do get out, dear. No, I shall drive on.'
She lingered on the pavement. She had not said a word of thanks. She
jumped on to the step and put her head through the window. 'Thank you,
kind Charles,' she said.
'Henrietta,' he began in a loud voice, filling the dark interior with
sound, 'Henrietta--'
'What is it?'
'No, no. Nothing.'
'Tell me.'
'No. Not fair,' he said. 'Just weakness. Good night. Be quick.'
She ran along the street and gave the front-door bell a gentle push.
To her relief it was the housemaid and not Susan who opened to her.
Susan would have looked at her severely, but the housemaid had a
welcoming smile, an offer of food if Miss Henrietta had not dined.
Henrietta shook her head. She was going to bed at once. She did not
want anything to eat. How was Miss Caroline?
'Not so well to-night, Miss Henrietta. The doctor's been again and
there's a night-nurse come.'
Henrietta pressed her hands against her heart. Oh, good Charles,
wonderful Charles! She did not know how to be grateful enough. She
moved meekly, humbly through the hall and up the stairs. All was
terribly, portentously still, but in her bedroom there were no signs
of the trouble in the house. The fire was lighted, her evening gown
had been laid out on the bed, her silk stockings and slippers were in
their usual places. Nobody had suspected, nobody had been alarmed; she
had stolen back by a miracle into her place.
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