ong. If I had, I'd have
done it better than this. I wouldn't have this brutal pain." She put her
fingers over her eyes. "It's horrible to complain! Only it's so bad! But
I won't again--promise."

She took the sleeping draught gratefully, making a face, like a child
after a powder.

"How long do you think it'll be before I can play again? Oh! I
forgot--there are other things to think about." She held out her hand to
me. "Look at my ring. Married--isn't it funny? Ha, ha! Nobody will
ever understand--that's funny too! Poor Gran! You see, there wasn't any
reason--only me. That's the only reason I'm telling you now; Mums is
there--but she doesn't count; why don't you count, Mums?"

The fever was fighting against the draught; she had tossed the clothes
back from her throat, and now and then raised one thin arm a little, as
if it eased her; her eyes had grown large, and innocent like a child's;
the candle, too, had flared, and was burning clearly.

"Nobody is to tell him--nobody at all; promise...! If I hadn't slipped,
it would have been different. What would have happened then? You can't
tell; and I can't--that's funny! Do you think I loved him? Nobody
marries without love, do they? Not quite without love, I mean. But you
see I wanted to be free, he said he'd take me; and now he's left me
after all! I won't be left, I can't! When I came to the cliff--that
bit where the ivy grows right down--there was just the sea there,
underneath; so I thought I would throw myself over and it would be all
quiet; and I climbed on a ledge, it looked easier from there, but it was
so high, I wanted to get back; and then my foot slipped; and now it's
all pain. You can't think much, when you're in pain."

From her eyes I saw that she was dropping off.

"Nobody can take you away from-yourself. He's not to be told--not
even--I don't--want you--to go away, because--" But her eyes closed, and
she dropped off to sleep.

They don't seem to know this morning whether she is better or worse....

VI

"Tuesday, 9th August.

.... It seems more like three weeks than three days since I wrote. The time
passes slowly in a sickhouse...! The doctors were here this morning,
they give her forty hours. Not a word of complaint has passed her lips
since she knew. To see her you would hardly think her ill; her cheeks
have not had time to waste or lose their colour. There is not much
pain, but a slow, creeping numbness.... It was John Ford's wish that sh