The other trembled, as if physically beaten upon by this appeal. But she gathered herself together rigidly. "How can I answer you such a thing as that? I mustn't listen to you; you mustn't ask me." She turned and left the girl standing still in her attitude of imploring. But in her own room, where she locked herself in, sobs mingled with the laughter which broke crazily from her lips as she removed this ribbon and that jewel, and pulled the bracelets from her wrists. A man would have plunged from the house and walked the night away; a woman must wear it out in her bed. XX In the morning Mrs. Bowen received a note from her banker covering a despatch by cable from America. It was from Imogene's mother; it acknowledged the letters they had written, and announced that she sailed that day for Liverpool. It was dated at New York, and it was to be inferred that after perhaps writing in answer to their letters, she had suddenly made up her mind to come out. "Yes, that is it," said Imogene, to whom Mrs. Bowen hastened with the despatch. "Why should she have telegraphed to _you_?" she asked coldly, but with a latent fire of resentment in her tone. "You must ask her when she comes," returned Mrs. Bowen, with all her gentleness. "It won't be long now." They looked as if they had neither of them slept; but the girl's vigil seemed to have made her wild and fierce, like some bird that has beat itself all night against its cage, and still from time to time feebly strikes the bars with its wings. Mrs. Bowen was simply worn to apathy. "What shall you do about this?" she asked. "Do about it? Oh, I will think. I will try not to trouble you." "Imogene!" "I shall have to tell Mr. Colville. But I don't know that I shall tell him at once. Give me the despatch, please." She possessed herself of it greedily, offensively. "I shall ask you not to speak of it." "I will do whatever you wish." "Thank you." Mrs. Bowen left the room, but she turned immediately to re-open the door she had closed behind her. "We were to have gone to Fiesole to-morrow," she said inquiringly. "We can still go if the day is fine," returned the girl. "Nothing is changed. I wish very much to go. Couldn't we go to-day?" she added, with eager defiance. "It's too late to-day," said Mrs. Bowen quietly. "I will write to remind the gentlemen." "Thank you. I wish we could have gone to-day." "You can have the carriage if you wish to drive anywhere," said Mrs. Bowen.