A moment before she had had to laugh at Bernstein; now her heart sank. She felt that Fanchon had never liked her, and now--wasn’t this an intrusion? Her courage suddenly wavered, and her knees felt weak under her when the gaunt woman opened a door at the end of the hall and almost thrust her into the room beyond. XXVII THE room was small and dim, although the shutters were open, as Lucas had remarked. There was a frayed and scanty look to everything, but a big four-poster stood in the corner. Lying across that, looking as small and helpless as a child, was Fanchon. She was half dressed, and she lay with her head on her arm, her soft dark hair tumbled about her shoulders and framing her white profile. Virginia, who had stopped just inside the door, stood waiting, hesitating, uncertain what to do. Fanchon did not move, and she looked so white and limp as she lay there that Virginia thought she had fainted. She went quickly across the room and stood beside the bed, looking down at the motionless figure. Fanchon’s eyes were closed, and the long, thick lashes made shadows on her white cheeks. There was no sign of makeup now except a touch of the lips that made her mouth look scarlet, in fearful contrast to the whiteness of cheeks and brow and throat. One arm was thrown across the bed and the small hand clasped the crumpled coverlet convulsively, the blue veins showing through its delicate whiteness. Half-clad as she was, Virginia saw how thin were Fanchon’s arms and how slender her neck, delicate and round as the stem of a flower. How changed she was! A memory of the daring little figure in white flashed back, and a flood of pity submerged Virginia’s heart. William’s cry, “I’m done with her!”--how incredibly cruel it would have seemed here! Still she did not move or speak, and Virginia touched her gently. “Fanchon!” she said softly. Very slowly Fanchon rose on her elbow and looked at the visitor. The fawn-like eyes were no longer soft; there was a smoldering fire in them, and the delicate brows came down above them. The small white face was distorted with an emotion that seemed to shake her from head to foot. “Why do you come here?” she asked sharply. “What do you want of me?” Virginia’s blush deepened painfully. “I came because I heard you were ill and in trouble,” she replied kindly, her voice trembling a little. Fanchon drew herself up farther into a sitting attitude, her knees under her chin and her hands clasping them. Her eyes still lowered at Virginia, and the whiteness of her face against her loose, dark hair had an almost weird effect. “Why do you care for that?” she asked slowly. “Why do you want to see how far I’m down?” Her tone and her glance alike conveyed almost an insult, and certainly a defiance; yet she was so weak that the other girl saw her tremble from head to foot, as if she had an ague. Again Virginia blushed, but this time she raised her head proudly.