“Last night?” Anna echoed. A sudden terror had possessed her. Could it be that the girl had tricked them all and gone with Owen? The idea was incredible, yet it took such hold of her that she could hardly steady her lips to say: “The porter did tell me, but I thought perhaps he was mistaken. Mrs. Farlow seemed to think that I should find her here.” “It was all so sudden that I don’t suppose she had time to let the Farlows know. She didn’t get Mrs. Murrett’s wire till yesterday, and she just pitched her things into a trunk and rushed----” “Mrs. Murrett?” “Why, yes. Sophy’s gone to India with Mrs. Murrett; they’re to meet at Brindisi,” Sophy’s sister said with a calm smile. Anna sat motionless, gazing at the disordered room, the pink bed, the trivial face among the pillows. Mrs. McTarvie-Birch pursued: “They had a fearful kick-up last spring--I daresay you knew about it--but I told Sophy she’d better lump it, as long as the old woman was willing to...As an artist, of course, it’s perfectly impossible for me to have her with me...” “Of course,” Anna mechanically assented. Through the confused pain of her thoughts she was hardly aware that Mrs. Birch’s explanations were still continuing. “Naturally I didn’t altogether approve of her going back to that beast of a woman. I said all I could...I told her she was a fool to chuck up such a place as yours. But Sophy’s restless--always was--and she’s taken it into her head she’d rather travel...” Anna rose from her seat, groping for some formula of leave-taking. The pushing back of her chair roused the white dog’s smouldering animosity, and he drowned his mistress’s further confidences in another outburst of hysterics. Through the tumult Anna signed an inaudible farewell, and Mrs. Birch, having momentarily succeeded in suppressing her pet under a pillow, called out: “Do come again! I’d love to sing to you.” Anna murmured a word of thanks and turned to the door. As she opened it she heard her hostess crying after her: “Jimmy! Do you hear me? Jimmy BRANCE!” and then, there being no response from the person summoned: “DO tell him he must go and call the lift for you!” End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Reef, by Edith Wharton