Lady Dashwood held towards her a letter. "Read that," she said, and then she turned to the fire and leaned her elbow on the mantelpiece and clasped her hot brow in her hands. She did not look at the tall slight figure with its aureole of auburn hair near her, and the serious sweet face reading the letter. What she was waiting for was--help--help in her dire need--help! She wanted May to say, "This can't be, must not be. _I_ can help you"; and yet, as the silence grew, Lady Dashwood knew that there was no help coming--it was absurd to expect help. May Dashwood stood quite still and read the letter through. She read it twice, and yet said nothing. "Well!" said Lady Dashwood, her voice muffled. As no reply came, she glanced round. "You have read the letter?" she asked. "Yes," said May, "I've read it," and she laid the letter on the mantelpiece. There was a curious movement of her breathing--as if something checked it; otherwise her face was calm and she showed no emotion. "What's to be done?" demanded Lady Dashwood. "Nothing can be done," said May, and she spoke breathlessly. "Nothing!" exclaimed Lady Dashwood. "May!" "Nothing, not if it is his wish," said May Dashwood, and she cleared her throat and moved away. "If he knew, it would not be his wish," said Lady Dashwood. "If he knew about the other letter; if he knew what those women were like! Of course," she went on, "men are such fools, that he might think he was rescuing her from Belinda! But," she burst out suddenly, yet very quietly, "can't he see that Gwen has no moral backbone? Can't he see that she's a lump of jelly? No, he can't see anything;" then she turned round again to the fire. "Society backs up fraud in marriage. People will palm off a girl who drinks or who shows signs of inherited insanity with the shamelessness of horse-dealers. 'The man must look out for himself,' they say. Very well," said Lady Dashwood, pulling herself up to her full height, "I am going to do--whatever can be done." But she did not _feel_ brave. May had walked to the dressing-table and was taking up brushes and putting them down again without using them. She took a stopper out of a bottle, and then replaced it. Lady Dashwood stood looking at her, looking at the bent head silently. Then she said suddenly: "This letter was posted when?" She suddenly became aware that the envelope was missing. She had thrown it into the fire in the drawing-room or dropped it. It didn't matter--it was written last night. "Gwen must have posted her news at the latest yesterday morning by the first post. Then when could it have happened? He never saw her for a moment between dinner on Monday, when you arrived, and when she must have posted her letter." Lady Dashwood stared at her niece. "It must have happened before you arrived." "No," said May. "He must have _written_--you see;" and she turned round and looked straight at Lady Dashwood for the first time since she read that letter.