If he should not be there! Her hand was on the door; the bitterness of it if the door proved to be locked.
It was open.

She was in the little entrance hall.

At the door of the library itself she stood listening.
Was that a sound of someone within?
No, only the beat of her own heart, the throb which seemed as if it must kill her.

She _could_ not open the door! She had not the strength to stand.

The pain, the pain! Yet she had turned the handle, and had entered.