She rose again in bed, and looked at her daughter in the same frightened way she had done a little while before, then laid herself over on the pillows again.

Her lips were tightly shut.
Edith was almost wild with suspense.

The clue to that sad and painful mystery which was absorbing her life seemed almost in her grasp.

A word from those closely-shut lips, and she would have certainty for uncertainty.

But she waited and waited until she grew faint, and still the lips kept silent.
But after a while Mrs.Dinneford grew uneasy, and began talking.