When her tears ceased, Emily hid her face in the pillow and moaned; often she uttered Wilfrid's name.

To-day she should by agreement have written to him, but to do so had been impossible.

He would be uneasy at her silence.

Oh, bow could she ever write to him again?
What might happen to-morrow?
At the thought, she held her breath and lay in silence.
She rose in time for breakfast, but at the last moment could not bring herself to go down to the meal.

To face her father was impossible.