Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. She came quickly into the little parlour, which now seemed inordinately crowded, and coming up to Melusine, seized her hands in a warm clasp. ‘The major thinks she’s worth it,’ put in Prudence quietly. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. If, when he returned, he blew out the light, she would go to bed; but if the light burned on for any length of time, she would go silently to the study curtain to learn if his agony was still upon him. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. " "That's well!" cried Jack. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence.
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