She raised her head and beat her hand helplessly on the table.
"God help me, what am I to do ?" she broke out.

"How am I to tell them ?" "There is no need to tell them," said a voice behind her.

"They know it already." She started to her feet and looked round.

It was Magdalen who stood before her--Magdalen who had spoken those words.
Yes, there was the graceful figure, in its mourning garments, standing out tall and black and motionless against the leafy background.

There was Magdalen herself, with a changeless stillness on her white face; with an icy resignation in her steady gray eyes.
"We know it already," she repeated, in clear, measured tones.