She asked no questions, simply treating her as she might have treated a lost child who had strayed away.

There was a vast fund of wisdom in the old grey head that was so often shaken over the follies of youth.
And, finally, when Doris had a little recovered, she went with her to her room, and helped her to bed, where she tucked her up with her own hot-water bottle and left her.
From sheer exhaustion Doris slept, though her sleep was not a happy one.
Long, tangled dreams wound in a ceaseless procession through her brain, and through them all she was persistently and fruitlessly striving to persuade Jeff to let her go.
In the late afternoon she awoke suddenly to the sound of men's voices in the room below her, and started up in nameless fear.
"Were you wanting anything, my dearie ?" asked Granny Grimshaw, from a chair by the fire.
"Who is that talking ?" she asked nervously.
"It's Master Jeff and a visitor," said the old woman.

"Now, don't you bother your head about them! I'm going along to get you some tea." She bustled away with the words, and Doris lay back, listening with every nerve stretched.

Her husband's deep voice was unmistakable, but the other she could not distinguish.

Only after a while there came the sounds of movement, the opening of a door.
When that happened she sprang swiftly from the bed to her own door, and softly opened it.
Two men stood in the hall below.