She tottered a little as she stood up, and her eyes were dazed.
"Why have you come here ?" she asked faintly, and she fell rather than sat again in her chair.
Hillyard sprang forward and tore the curtains aside so that the sunlight poured into the room, and Stella opened and shut her eyes with a contraction of pain.
"I had so many letters to write," she explained, "I thought that I would sit up and get through with them." Hillyard looked at the table.

There were great black dashes on the notepaper and lines, and here and there a scribbled picture of a face, and perhaps now and again half a word.

She had sat at that table all night and had not even begun a letter.

Hillyard's heart was torn with pity as he looked from her white, tired face to the sheets of notepaper.
What misery and unhappiness did those broad, black dashes and idle lines express?
"You must have some breakfast," he said.

"I'll order it and have it ready for you downstairs by the time you are ready.