— — —When Belle woke, a blur of bitter daylight was in the room; she had forgotten to pull down the blinds, and her windows, on which the frost had made patterns, looked east. She thought she could hear church bells. What time was it? Six, seven? At what time did it get light on December 25th?
She was wide awake and strove to keep herself so, despite her yesterday’s resolution of remaining in bed; she had had an unpleasant dream which she wished to shake off. What had it been? She could not remember the circumstances, only the horror. Something about the knife which Daisy Arrow had put into her reticule. Well, that wasn’t strange after all, seeing what she had intended to do with that knife yesterday, what she might have done had she been a little braver and if Minnie Palmer had not come
