Finally Valancy went to bed. Before she went she re-read Dr. Trent’s letter. It comforted her a little. So positive. So assured. The writing so black and steady. Not the writing of a man who didn’t know what he was writing about. But she could not sleep. She pretended to be asleep when Barney came in. Barney pretended to go to sleep. But Valancy knew perfectly well he wasn’t sleeping any more than she was. She knew he was lying there, staring through the darkness. Thinking of what? Trying to face — what?

Valancy, who had spent so many happy wakeful hours of night lying by that window, now paid the price of them all in this one night of misery. A horrible, portentous fact was slowly looming out before her from the nebula of surmise and fear. She could not shut her eyes to it — push it away — ignore it.