She looked as hard as granite though in reality her heart was breaking with pity.
"I want to help you," she said, "and I can't if you keep things back." "I told you George was sick.

I was up all night with him." Again a look of disgust, which she could not control, flickered and died in her face.
"But you oughtn't to have let him keep you awake.

You need all the sleep you can get.

When he comes in late he must sleep in the spare room across the hall." "His things are all in here and he would come in to get them; that would wake me." For a moment Mrs.Fowler hesitated while the struggling breath grew more irregular under the passementerie on her bosom.

The ripe colour faded from her cheeks and her lips looked blue in the harsh light from the window.
"I think I'd better speak to George," she said.