frightful gasping of a deadly struggle. The door shook beneath the shock of heavy bodies pressing against it; she could hear the thud of limbs striking the floor, the hammering of fists, the tearing of clutching hands. She shrieked as the door burst open—no one was there, yet something had entered fighting, snarling, gasping, struggling. She stood in the centre of the room as though rooted to the ground. She saw the tables overturned, the chairs fall and break, the curtains torn from the windows, by invisible hands. And all the time the terrible choking, gasping sound went on.
"Who is it?" she cried. "Ernest! Hugh! O God!"
Then she felt hands fall upon her, her clothes were torn, she was dragged, now this way, now that, by violent, invisible fingers. Shriek after shriek pierced through the house; the stairs became full of people, they were hurrying to her assistance. Her father was first to enter; he caught her in his arms. "She has gone mad with sorrow," he said, looking round the destroyed and littered room, and at her torn clothes. "Who left her alone at such a time? She has gone mad."
