CHAPTER XXIT
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there came days of hushed voices and muffled sounds and darkened rooms and an oppressive sense of life at half pressure. The weather had broken. The hours of rain from a sad sky harmonised with the dreariness of things. The intervals of hot sunshine jarred. And one day a train from town brought many sorrowful faces to Greybrooke. Among them Cudby—tears making his gold-rimmed eyeglass difficult of control.
Elinor Currey was there, red-eyed. Alicia took her to her heart, whispered “My poor Elinor.” The girl, comforted by kind arms around her, confessed miserably. She had strung herself up to play the consoler. Alicia in no way demanded consolation, and positions were oddly reversed. The appearance on a heart-rending scene of a girl with wan face and dusky Italian eyes mov
