But there was no sympathy in her face, only an uncertainty which seemed to speak to her--to touch her--and her mother was broken-hearted with shame and grief.
The anxiety was also a dumb one.

Until the Senora rose from her knees, there was not a movement made, not a word uttered.

The girls waited shivering with cold, sick with fear, until she spoke.

Even then her words were cold as the wind outside: "Go to your room, Antonia.

You have not only sinned; you have made me sin also.