She saw things so vile that she screamed in
terror, and she heard Oliver laugh in derision by her side. It was a
scene of indescribable horror, and she put her hands to her eyes so that
she might not see.
She felt Oliver Haddo take her hands. She would not let him drag them
away. Then she heard him speak.
'You need not be afraid.'
His voice was quite natural once more, and she realized with a start that
she was sitting quietly in the studio. She looked around her with
frightened eyes. Everything was exactly as it had been. The early night
of autumn was fallen, and the only light in the room came from the fire.
There was still that vague, acrid scent of the substance which Haddo had
burned.
'Shall I light the candles?' he said.
He struck a match and lit those which were on the piano. They threw a
strange light. Then Margaret suddenly remembered all that she had seen,
and she remembered that Haddo had stood by her side. Shame seized her,
intolerable shame, so that the colour, rising to her cheeks, seemed
actually to burn them.
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