Had his foible developed into a madness?
Such things had been.

A little gasp broke from her lips.
"But not in your handwriting," Hillyard hastened to add.
"Whose then ?" asked Harry Luttrell suddenly.
"Stella's," answered Hillyard.
A shiver ran from one to the other of that small company, and discomfort kept them silent.

A vague dread stole in upon their minds.

It was as though some uncanny presence were in the room.

They had eaten with Stella Croyle in this room, played with her out there in the sunlit garden, and only one of them had suspected the overwhelming despair which had driven her so hard.