So great was the tension to which she had strung herself that she did not even envy the ordinariness of these people: they appeared to be in some other world, not attainable by herself. These were busied with domestic affairs, with beer or cheese or gossip. Her task was of another kind: so much she knew; and as to what that task was, she was about to learn.
As she turned the corner, the figure she expected was waiting there; and she could see in the deep twilight that he lifted his hat to her. She went straight up to him.
“Yes,” she said, “I have seen for myself. You are right so far. Now tell me what to do.”
It was no time for conventionality. She did not ask why the solicitor was there. It was enough that he had come.
“Walk this way then with me,” he said. “Now tell me what you have seen.”
“I have seen a change I cannot describe at all. It’s just someone else—not Laurie at all. I don’t understand it in the least. But I just want to know what to do. I have written to Father Mahon to come.”
He was silent for a step or two.
“I cannot tell you what to do. I must leave that to yourself. I can only tell you what not to do.”
“Very well.”
“Miss Deronnais, you are magnificent! … There, it is said. Now then. You must not get excited or frightened whatever happens. I do not believe that you are in any danger—not of the ordinary kind, I mean. But if you