CHAPTER XXIV

An hour later, when left in her own room with Mary, Dorothy poured out her secret sorrow. The others had yielded to her urging and gone to the tea-table below, albeit with scant appetites, and with minds much troubled over the strange weakness that had come over Dot. But Mary remained; and so it came about that the two were now alone, Dorothy lying upon a lounge, and Mary beside her, clasping one of her hands. The room was filled with weird shadows from the wood fire, which made the only light; for Jack, at his si…