And still Sylvia remained pale and silent, eyes downcast, shrinking close into her upholstered corner, as though some reflex instinct of self-concealment was still automatically dominating her.
"She ought to be spanked!" said Grace viciously. "If she were my daughter I'd do it, too!"
Sylvia did not stir.
"Little idiot! Going into a man's house in the face of all Fifth Avenue and the teeth of decency!"
"She has courage," said Sylvia, still very white.
"Courage! Do you mean fool-hardiness?"
"No, courage--the courage I lacked. I knew he was too ill to leave his room and I lacked the courage to go and see him."
"You mean, alone?"
"Certainly, alone."
"You dare tell me you ever contemplated--"
"Oh, yes. I think I should have done it yet, but--but Marion--"
Suddenly she bent forward, resting her face in her hands; and between the fingers a bright drop ran, glimmered, and fell.
"O Lord!" breathed Mrs. Ferrall, and sank back, nerveless, into her own corner of the rocking brougham.