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Sobs shook her, and she bowed to them like a tree in a dry storm.
Gerty knelt beside her, waiting, with the patience born of experience, till this gust of misery should loosen fresh speech. She had first imagined some physical shock, some peril of the crowded streets, since Lily was presumably on her way home from Carry Fisher's; but she now saw that other nerve-centres were smitten, and her mind trembled back from conjecture.
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I can't leave you, Lily. Come and lie on my bed. Your hands are frozen--you must undress and be made warm. Gerty paused with sudden compunction. But Mrs. Peniston--it's past midnight! What will she think?