Sisters by Ada Cambridge — Read

How she got into the room -- the isolated big drawing-room, which somebody else, who was aware of his arrival, had directed that he was to be shown into -- Mary knew not; but she was there. He stood perfectly still, massive and inflexible, to receive her. Without approaching him -- or he her -- to shake hands, without looking at his face or anywhere near it, she perceived the adamantine set of lips, the cold gaze, more withering than fire, which informed her that he knew all; and she sank crouching into a chair, and hid her face. But her back was against the wall now. The coward stage was past. In the most desperately false position that a girl could occupy, she made no further attempt to run away from the truth, perhaps because she saw that it was useless.

When he began, very politely, but with no beating about the bush, to say: "I daresay you are surprised to see me, Miss Pennycuick, but I was told -- and since I came up here I have been told again by several different persons -- something that I want you to help me to understand," she jerked herself upright, and stopped him with a swift gesture and the cry of: "I know! I know what you have been told; and I have nothing to say. I cannot contradict it."