"Because," answered Laura, "because--I--because--" Then all at once she burst out afresh: "Have I got to answer to you for what I do? Have I got to explain? All your life long you've pretended to judge your sister. Now you've gone too far. Now I forbid it--from this day on. What I do is my affair; I'll ask nobody's advice. I'll do as I please, do you understand?" The tears sprang to her eyes, the sobs strangled in her throat. "I'll do as I please, as I please," and with the words she sank down in the chair by her desk and struck her bare knuckles again and again upon the open lid, crying out through her tears and her sobs, and from between her tight-shut teeth: "I'll do as I please, do you understand? As I please, as I please! I will be happy. I will, I will, I will!" "Oh, darling, dearest--" cried Page, running forward. But Laura, on her feet once more, thrust her back. "Don't touch me," she cried. "I hate you!" She put her fists to her temples and, her eyes closed, rocked herself to and fro. "Don't you touch me. Go away from me; go away from me. I hate you; I hate you all. I hate this house, I hate this life. You are all killing me. Oh, my God, if I could only die!" She flung herself full length upon the couch, face downward. Her sobs shook her from head to foot. Page knelt at her side, an arm about her shoulder, but to all her sister's consolations Laura, her voice muffled in her folded arms, only cried: "Let me alone, let me alone. Don't touch me." For a time Page tried to make herself heard; then, after a moment's reflection, she got up and drew out the pin in Laura's hat. She took off the hat, loosened the scarf around Laura's neck, and then deftly, silently, while her sister lay inert and sobbing beneath her hands, removed the stiff, tight riding-habit. She brought a towel dipped in cold water from the adjoining room and bathed Laura's face and hands. But her sister would not be comforted, would not respond to her entreaties or caresses. The better part of an hour went by; Page, knowing her sister's nature, in the end held her peace, waiting for the paroxysm to wear itself out. After a while Laura's weeping resolved itself into long, shuddering breaths, and at length she managed to say, in a faint, choked voice: "Will you bring me the cologne from my dressing-table, honey? My head aches so." And, as Page ran towards the door, she added: "And my hand mirror, too. Are my eyes all swollen?" And that was the last word upon the subject between the two sisters. But the evening of the same day, between eight and nine o'clock, while Laura was searching the shelves of the library for a book with which to while away the long evening that she knew impended, Corthell's card was brought to her. "I am not at home," she told the servant. "Or--wait," she added. Then, after a moment's thought, she said: "Very well. Show him in here."