8 The EnvelopeThe change in the drawing-room in the Dower House was extraordinary. The cosiness, the peace had vanished. The fire had burned down to a few red and grey coals, the candles had shrunk in their sticks, and the room was cold and desolate.
The two girls sat huddled together in the window-seat. Biddy was not crying; she sat up stiffly, her back against the folded wooden shutter. Her face was very pale, and the same twisted, suffering expression was still engraved upon it.
The other girl sat close to her, her small hand resting upon her knee.
‘I can’t tell you how unbelievable it is,’ Biddy burst out suddenly, keeping her voice down instinctively as if she feared to be overheard. ‘It’s so unlike him. I didn’t think he had a care in the world, and no greater worry than the atten
