And about the table ran a little quiver of relief.

With that question, Jenny Prask had delivered herself into their hands.
"Yes." Jenny stood with a mutinous face and silent lips.

Lady Splay had marshalled in their order the items of the case which would be made against her, if she persisted in her lie.

How would she receive them?
Persist, reckless of her own overthrow, so long as she overthrew Joan Whitworth too?
Or surrender angrily?
The four people watched for her answer with anxiety; and it was given in a way which they least expected.

For Jenny covered her face with her hands, her shoulders began to heave and great tears burst out between her fingers and trickled down the backs of her hands.
"It's unbearable," she sobbed.