CHAPTER VIII.
THE SURRENDER OF THE CITADEL Old Mrs.Maynard, sweeping her brick floor with wide-open door through which the April sunlight streamed gloriously, nodded to herself a good many times over the doings of the night.

A very discreet creature was Mrs.Maynard, faithful to the very heart of her, but she would not have been mortal had she not been intensely curious to know what were the circumstances that had led Vivian Caryl to bring to her door that shrinking, exhausted girl who still lay sleeping in the room above.
When Doris awoke in response to her deferential knock, only the reticence of the trained servant greeted her.

The motherliness of the night before had completely vanished.
Doris was glad of it.

She had to steel herself for the coming interview with Caryl; she had to face the result of her headlong actions with as firm a front as she could assume.

She needed all her strength, and she could not have borne sympathy just then.
She thanked Mrs.Maynard for her attentions and saw her withdraw with relief.