"Too late?" He began fumbling with his watch; it wouldn't come out of
the pocket.
"Mrs. Hutton passed away half an hour ago."
The voice remained even in its softness, the melancholy of the eyes did
not deepen. Dr. Libbard spoke of death as he would speak of a local
cricket match. All things were equally vain and equally deplorable.
Mr. Hutton found himself thinking of Janet Spence's words. At any
moment--at any moment. She had been extraordinarily right.
"What happened?" he asked. "What was the cause?"
Dr. Libbard explained. It was heart failure brought on by a violent
attack of nausea, caused in its turn by the eating of something of an
irritant nature. Red currants? Mr. Hutton suggested. Very likely. It had
been too much for the heart. There was chronic valvular disease:
something had collapsed under the strain. It was all over; she could not
have suffered much.