"Mr.Le Frank has called, ma'am--and wishes to know if you can see him." She never stopped to think.

She never even sent for the maid to see to her personal appearance.

The horror of her own helplessness drove her on.

Here was the man, whose timely betrayal of Carmina had stopped her on her way to Ovid, in the nick of time! Here was the self-devoted instrument, waiting to be employed.
"I'll see Mr.Le Frank," she said.

"Show him up." The music-master looked round the obscurely lit room, and bowed to the recumbent figure on the sofa.
"I fear I disturb you, madam, at an inconvenient time." "I am suffering from illness, Mr.Le Frank; but I am able to receive you--as you see." She stopped there.