March! I have wasted too much time already." Juliette was too proud to insist any further.

She had hoped, by one word, to soften Madame Deroulede's and Anne Mie's heart towards her.

She did not know whether they believed that miserable lie which she had been telling to Merlin; she only guessed that for the moment they still thought her the betrayer of Paul Deroulede.
But that one word was not to be spoken.

She would have to go forth to her certain trial, to her probable death, under the awful cloud, which she herself had brought over her own life.
She turned quietly, and walked towards the door, where the two men already stood at attention.
Then it was that some heaven-born instinct seemed suddenly to guide Anne Mie.

The crippled girl was face to face with a psychological problem, which in itself was far beyond her comprehension, but vaguely she felt that it was a problem.