hear. It was not thought which crumpled the edge of the sheet in her clenched hands; it was not thought which tried to toss her but which she controlled so that it only turned her slowly, as if she moved in her sleep, from side to side.
She deceived Di into thinking that she slept. Di ceased to munch marzipan and to read by her bed light; Di arose and moved to her mirror; she opened a drawer and produced a check book.
She had money, plenty of it, money to give away. Ellen did not doubt that Di and the Slengels had obtained the Metten order.
Di ceased to find satisfaction in scrutiny of her check book; she switched on the mirror light and leaned close to the glass, gazing at herself. She saw no change, none that showed. None that betrayed anything; nothing to alarm her; yet she was not reassured. She stole to her bed and back to the mirror for another look into her own eyes, to see what was behind them, what stirred in her soul.
She switched off the mirror light; beside her bed, she switched off the reading light and stood in the dark, cut by vague glints and patterns of shadows from the street. Di, alone in the dead of night, was become afraid of what she had done.
Suddenly she crumpled; she dropped to the floor, catching at the side of her bed and clinging to it. Di sobbed a bit and, like a little child frightened and sobbing, she prayed.
Ellen shut her eyes to see no more; Ellen's lips moved, but she did not make the mistake of speaking, even in a
