comb and brush, and with a sudden sickness of
apprehension she darted to the wardrobe and flung open the doors. In the
bottom were a few odd garments, above was the hat with the purple
feather, now shabby and discarded, on the hooks a skirt and jacket Lise
wore to work at the Bagatelle in bad weather. That was all.... Janet sank
down in the rocking-chair, her hands clasped together, overwhelmed by the
sudden apprehension of the tragedy that had lurked, all unsuspected, in
the darkness: a tragedy, not of Lise alone, but in which she herself was
somehow involved. Just why this was so, she could not for the moment
declare. The room was cold, she was clad only in a nightdress, but surges
of heat ran through her body. What should she do? She must think. But
thought was impossible. She got up and closed the window and began to
dress with feverish rapidity, pausing now and again to stand motionless.
In one such moment there entered her mind an incident that oddly had made
little impression at the time of its occurrence because she, Janet, had
been blinded by the prospect of her own happiness--that happiness which,
a few minutes ago, had seemed so real and vital a thing! And it was the
memory of this incident that suddenly threw a glaring, evil light on all
of Lise's conduct during the past months--her accidental dropping of the
vanity case and the gold coin! Now she knew for a certainty what had
happened to her sister.

Having dressed herself, she entered the kitchen, which was warm, filled
with the smell of frying meat. Streaks of grease smoke floated
fantastically beneath the low ceiling, and Hannah, with the frying-pan in
one hand and a fork in the other, was bending over the stove. Wisps of
her scant, whitening hair escaped from the ridiculous, tightly drawn knot
at the back of her head; in the light of the flickering gas-jet she
looked so old and worn that a sudden pity smote Janet and made her dumb
--pity for her mother, pity for herself, pity for Lise; pity that lent a
staggering insight into life itself. Hannah had once been young,
desirable, perhaps, swayed by those forces which had swayed her. Janet
wondered why she had never guessed this before, and why she had guessed
it now. But it was Hannah who, looking up and catching sight of Janet's
face, was quick to divine the presage in it and gave voice to the
foreboding that had weighed on her for many weeks.

"Where's Lise?"

And Janet could not answer. She shook her