She arose quickly as he did so, crossed the room and silently turned the key, locking herself in.

Then her manner changed; she moved about the room in a half-aimless, half-conscious way, as though some purpose was beginning to take shape in her mind.

Her motions had an easy, cat-like grace, in contrast with their immobility a little while before.

Gradually her step became quicker, while ripples of feeling began to pass over her face, which was fast losing its pallor.

Gleams of light began shooting from her eyes, that were so dull and stony when her husband found her with Edith's letter crushed in her grasp.