went away, but before long she came back with a dark curtain to
shroud the window.

"No, no! I want light, not shadows," Mildred cried in a shrill voice. "A
dark room--" Her voice fell away in the track of her troubled memories,
and when she spoke again it was in her ordinary tones. "I beg your
pardon, Helen. You startled me. I think I must have dozed and dreamed."

"And you won't have the curtain?"

"No. Let there be light." She lay there helpless, while thoughts preyed
on her, as vultures might prey on something moribund.

At dinner-time she refused to help herself to food, though she ate if
Helen fed her. "The spoon is heavy," she complained.

Miriam was white and nervous. "She ought to have Zebedee," she said.
"She looks funny. She frightens me."

"We could wait until tomorrow," Helen said. "He is so busy and I don't
want to bring him up for nothing. He's being overworked."

"But for Notya!" Miriam exclaimed. "And don't you want to see him?" She
could not keep still. "I can't bear people to be ill. He ought to come."

"Go and ask John."

"What does he know about it?" she whispered. "I keep thinking perhaps
she will go mad."

"That's silly."

"It isn't. She looks--queer. If she does, I shall run away. I'm going to
George. He'll drive into the town. You mustn't sacrifice Notya to
Zebedee, you know."

Helen let out an ugly, scornful sound that angered Miriam.

"Old sheep!" she said, and Helen had to spare a smile, but she was
thoughtful.

"Perhaps John would go."

"But why not George?"

"We're always asking favours."

"Pooh! He likes them and I don't mind asking."

"Well, then, it would be rather a relief. I don't know what to do with
her."

The sense of responsibility towards George which had once kept Miriam
awake had also kept her from him in a great effort of self-denial, and
it was many days since she had done more than wave a greeting or give
him a few light words.

"I believe I've offended you," he had told her not long ago, but she
assured him that it was not so.

"Then I can't make you out," he muttered.

She shut her eyes and showed him her long lashes. "No, I'm a mystery.
Think about me, George." And before he had time to utter his genuine,
clumsy speech, she ran away.

"But I can't avoid temptation much longer," she told herself. "Life's
too dull."

And now this illness which alarmed her was like a door opening slowly.

"And it's the hand of God that left it ajar," she said