Judith ran to the telephone. She told Lary that his mother had fainted.
To Eileen she said bluntly: “Mother is dying. Send one of the doctors.”
Eileen called a dozen numbers before she located either Sydney or his
father. Then she left her little sister in Nanny’s care and hurried to
Vine Cottage.
When the old family physician reached the house, Lavinia Trench had
passed beyond human aid. He drew Judith into the breakfast room and
asked, unsteadily:
“Was there a violent outburst? Grief wouldn’t account for it ... nor
remorse.”
The woman nodded, her throat swelling.
“Don’t tell Lary. He need not know. He wouldn’t understand. Women are
so different, Dr. Schubert. I wouldn’t want Lary to despise his mother.
She wasn’t wholly to blame--that the frost came too late.”
* * * * * *
Transcriber’s note:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Archaic or alternate spelling has been retained from the original.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.