the electric lamp by the bedside cast but a dim penumbra beyond the lighted circle where Jill sat in her pink silk jacket.
Mademoiselle Ludérac just glanced at him as she came in, bowed her head, and went swiftly to Jill and took her hand and stood beside her, half turned from him. She wore a long black cloak and a small black hat, and all that he saw of her face was the pale line of her cheek. But he saw her white hand, holding Jill's. He watched it while she and Jill spoke together.
'You are better?'
How her voice startled him. It was as if he had forgotten it.
'Ever so much better.—How good of you to come.'
'I should have come before, had you needed me.—It is for Madame de Lamouderie that I have come.'
'She's sent you?—It was better for you not to come, wasn't it?—It's such a tiresome thing to catch, dear Marthe.'
'No; she has not sent me. I have come quite of my own initiative.—No, it is not to stay.—I must go back to her'—Jill had indicated a chair—'or she will miss me and she must not know that I have been with you.—It is only this. Now that you are better, could Monsieur Graham'—Mademoiselle Ludérac did not look towards him as she thus named him, but it was with perfect calm that she spoke—'come and see her, do you think? She is very much troubled, though she tries to hide it. I have told her that it is
