He advanced on her to turn her from the room.  Ally sank on her sofa as she saw him come.

Rowcliffe stepped between them.

“For God’s sake, sir——­”

Ally was struggling in hysterics now, choking between her piteous and savage cries.

Rowcliffe laid her on the sofa and put a cushion under her head.  When he tried to loosen her gown at her throat she screamed.

“It’s all right, Ally, it’s all right.”

“Is it? Is it?” The Vicar hissed at him.

“It won’t be unless you leave her to me.  If you go on bullying her much longer I won’t answer for the consequences.  You surely don’t want——­”

“It’s all right, Ally.  Lie quiet, there—­like that.  That’s a good girl.  Nobody’s going to worry you any more.”

He was kneeling by the sofa, pressing his hand to her forehead.  Ally still sobbed convulsively, but she lay quiet.  She closed her eyes under Rowcliffe’s soothing hand.

“You might go and see if you can find some salvolatile, Mary,” he said.

Mary went.

The Vicar, who had turned his back on this scene, went, also, into his study.

Ally still kept her eyes shut.

“Has Mary gone?”

“Yes.”

“And Papa?”

“Yes.  Lie still.”

She lay still.

* * * * *

There was the sound of wheels on the road.  It brought Mary and the
Vicar back into the room.  The wheels stopped.  The gate clanged.

Rowcliffe rose.

“That’s Greatorex.  I’ll go to him.”

Ally lay very still now, still as a corpse, with closed eyes.

The house door opened.

Rowcliffe drew back into the room.

“It isn’t Greatorex,” he said.  “It’s Gwenda.”

“Who sent for her?” said the Vicar.

“I did,” said Ally.

She had opened her eyes.

“Thank God for that, anyhow,” said Rowcliffe.

Mary and her father looked at each other.  Neither of them seemed to want to go out to Gwenda.  It struck Rowcliffe that the Vicar was afraid.

They waited while Gwenda paid her driver and dismissed him.  They could hear her speaking out there in the passage.

The house door shut and she came to them.  She paused in the doorway, looking at the three who stood facing her, embarrassed and expectant.  She seemed to be thinking that it was odd that they should stand there.  The door, thrown back, hid Alice, who lay behind it on her sofa.

“Come in, Gwenda,” said the Vicar with exaggerated suavity.

She came in and closed the door.  Then she saw Alice.

She took the hand that Rowcliffe held out to her without looking at him.  She was looking at Alice.

Alice gave a low cry and struggled to her feet.

“I thought you were never coming,” she said.

Gwenda held her in her arms.  She faced them.