Olga raised no protest now.

She gave her silent assistance.

The horrors of that day had so closed in upon her that she felt fantastically convinced that nothing she did or left undone could make any difference, or hinder for the fraction of an instant the fate that so remorselessly pursued them and was surely every moment drawing nearer.

The fear at her heart had so wound itself into her very being that she was no longer conscious of it.

It possessed her like an evil spell.
So she stood by, sometimes helping, always watching, while her friend's tragedy leaped from point to point like a spreading forest-fire breeding destruction.
"You are not afraid of me, Allegro ?" Violet asked her suddenly, as she arranged her black hair with swift, feverish movements.
And Olga answered with truth.