"I think she wanted me to break it to you," said Mrs. Colwood, after a moment. "And I thought it--it might save you pain." "Just like you!" Diana stooped to kiss her hand. "That's what your headache meant! Well, but now--ought I--ought I--to do it?" She clasped her hands round her knees and swayed backward and forward--pondering--with a rather sombre brow. Mrs. Colwood's expression was hidden in the darkness of the big chair. "--Always supposing I can do it," resumed Diana. "And I certainly couldn't do it at once; I haven't got it. I should have to sell something, or borrow from the bank. No, I must think--I must think over it," she added more resolutely, as though her way cleared. "Of course," said Mrs. Colwood, faintly. Then she raised herself. "Let me tell her so--let me save you the conversation." "You dear!--but why should you!" said Diana, in amazement. "Let me." "If you like! But I can't have Fanny making you look like this. Please, please go to bed." * * * * * An hour later Mrs. Colwood, in her room, was still up and dressed, hanging motionless, and deep in thought, over the dying fire. And before she went to sleep--far in the small hours--her pillow was wet with crying. CHAPTER VIII "I thought I'd perhaps better let you know--I'm--well, I'm going to have a talk with Diana this morning!" The voice was determined. Muriel Colwood--startled and dismayed--surveyed the speaker. She had been waylaid on the threshold of her room. The morning was half-way through. Visitors, including Mr. Fred Birch, were expected to lunch, and Miss Merton, who had been lately invisible, had already, she saw, changed her dress. At breakfast, it seemed to Mrs. Colwood, she had been barely presentable: untidy hair, a dress with various hooks missing, and ruffles much in need of washing. Muriel could only suppose that the carelessness of her attire was meant to mark the completeness of her conquest of Beechcote. But now her gown of scarlet velveteen, her arms bare to the elbow, her frizzled and curled hair, the powder which gave a bluish white to her complexion, the bangles and beads which adorned her, showed her armed to the last pin for the encounters of the luncheon-table.