All restlessness in her movements had come to an end. She was standing at the further end of the table, which was nearest to the window, in the full flow of sunlight pouring at that moment over her face. Her eyes looked out straight before her--void of all expression. Her lips were a little parted: her head drooped slightly toward her shoulder, in an attitude which suggested listening for something or waiting for something. In the warm brilliant light, she stood before the two men, a living creature self-isolated in a stillness like the stillness of death.
John Zant was ready with the expression of his opinion.
"A nervous seizure," he said. "Something resembling catalepsy, as you see.""Have you sent for a doctor?"
"A doctor is not wanted."