"Why?--Karl?"--she caught roughly at the other woman's arm.
She knew then that she could not temporise nor modify. "Dr. Hubers was
taken sick yesterday. He was to have an operation. The telegram should
have been delivered last night."
She thought Ernestine was going to fall--she swayed so, her face went so
colourless, her hands so cold. But she did not fall. "That--is all you
know?"--it came in hoarse, broken whisper.
And when the woman answered, yes, Ernestine started, running, for the
house.
CHAPTER XXXV
"OH, HURRY--_HURRY!_"
That train!--She would go mad if it kept stopping like that. She kept
leaning forward in her seat, every muscle tense, fairly pushing the train
on with every nerve that was in her. Never once did she relax--on--on--it
must go on! She would _make_ it go faster! When it stopped she clenched
her hands, her nails digging into the flesh--and then when it started
again that same feeling that she, from within herself, must push it on.
At times she looked from the window.
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