noon
Going to her the last thing at night , her aunt was reassured ; weariness had followed upon nervous strain , and the beautiful eyes seemed longing for sleep . But in the morning appearances were not so hopeful . The night had after all been a troubled one : Beatrice declined breakfast and , having dressed with effort , lay on a sofa , her eyes closed . At noon Mrs. Baxendale came near and said gently : ` Dear , you are not going to be ill ? ' The sufferer stirred a little , looked in her aunt 's face , rose to a sitting position . ` Ill ? ' She laughed in a forced way .