It was a pretty
silver travelling flask and she remembered that it must be in her
dressing-bag now, and there was some cognac left in it. She got up
and went to the place where the bag was kept. Cognac raised your
spirits and made you go to sleep, and if she could sleep until
morning the house would not be so frightening by daylight--and
something might happen. The little flask was almost full. Neither
she nor Robert had cared much about cognac. She poured some into
a glass with water and drank it.
Because she was unaccustomed to stimulant it made her feel quite
warm and in a few minutes she forgot that she had been hungry
and realized that she was not so frightened. It was such a relief
not to be terrified; it was as if a pain had stopped. She actually
picked up one or two of the account books and glanced at the
totals. If you couldn't pay bills you couldn't and nobody was
put in prison for debt in these days. Besides she would not have
been put in prison--Rob would--and Rob was dead. Something would
happen--something.
As she began to arrange her hair for the night she remembered what
Cook had said about Lord Coombe. She has cried until she did not
look as lovely as usual, but after she had bathed her eyes with
cold rose-water they began to seem only shadowy and faintly flushed.
And her fine ash-gold hair was wonderful when it hung over each
shoulder in wide, soft plaits.
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