What will the Chief think of
me!"
Slowly she sank down on the sofa where she had been sitting,
then, without any warning, dropped her head into her hands and
burst into tears.
Desmond went over to her.
"Please don't cry," he said gently, "you have borne up so bravely
against this terrible blow; you must try and not let it overwhelm
you."
All her business-like calm had disappeared now she was that most
distracting of all pictures of woman, a pretty girl overwhelmed
with grief. She crouched curled upon the sofa, with shoulders
heaving, sobbing as though her heart would break.
"Perhaps you would like me to leave you?" Desmond asked. "Let me
ring for your friends... I am sure you would rather be alone!"
She raised a tear-stained face to his, her long lashes
glittering.
"No, no," she said, "don't go, don't go! I want your help. This
is such a dark and dreadful business, more than I ever realized.
Oh, my poor daddy, my poor daddy!"
Again she hid her face in her hands and cried whilst Desmond
stood erect by her aide, compassionate but very helpless.
After a little, she dabbed her eyes with a tiny square of
cambric, and sitting up, surveyed the other.
"I must go to the Chief at once," she said, "it is most urgent.
Would you ring and ask the maid to telephone for a taxi?"
"I have one outside," answered Desmond.
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