She knew, now, what it meant to be alone.
When she rose at last, her face was changed; there was a keen, famished look in her eyes, and her movements were steady and direct.

Her nature was very unlike Bosio's, for she was able to drive her will into action, as it were, and she could be sure that it would not turn and bend, and disappoint her.

But, for the present, she could do little more, and she knew it.

She could only hope that all things might go well, standing ready at hand to throw her weight upon the scale-beam if fate alone would not bear down the side that bore her safety.

She had said all that she could say to Veronica and to Bosio.