LAUREL WAS DRIFTING off into unconsciousness for the second time when she became aware of her name being spoken, just outside the heavy curtain of the berth. She had been dimly aware of voices conversing in low tones for five or ten minutes before the sound of her own name prodded her wide awake. The section opposite had not been made up when she and her mother went to bed. Probably, Laurel concluded, some of the people who had come down on the evening train were sitting there and chatting.

“Yes, that very pretty dark girl, who was so popular with the younger set—lovely eyes. Laurel Dallas. Such an odd name.”

“But how is it possible? She seemed so very refined, so distinctly nice in every way.”

“Well, I asked the clerk. He told me—”

“You mean the woman in the striped dress?”

“Certainly, certainly. She is that lovely child’s mother.”

“What a handicap to the poor girl.”

“I should say so. All those people she’s been playing around with had no idea what her mother was like, I suppose.”

“She’s been ill ever since she came. I wish I could have stayed a few days longer and seen just what would have happened when that woman appeared on the scene.”

“What’s the woman’s story?”

“I don’t know. I never heard of her before. Dallas is her name, from Boston.”

“Poor girl. It’s like having a ball and chain around her ankle to be obliged to drag a woman like that after her wherever she goes.”

“Yes, but those things happen. Once I knew of a young man . . . charming . . . such aristocratic manners, and he came from the commonest family . . . vulgar people. Of course, being a man, he could escape his family, but a girl . . . a young girl like that”—the train began to move—“perfectly helpless . . . branded”—it moved faster—“a shame. Such a pity . . . Richard Grosvenor.” It moved still faster. The voices were drowned in the rumble of flying steel.

5

OH, HAD HER mother heard? Was her mother awake? No, Laurel thought not. Her breathing was heavy and slightly audible. The hand that had grasped hers so tightly a little while ago was limp and lifeless now. Her whole body was limp and lifeless. It moved slightly with the motion of the train, as unresisting as the curtains.

6

OH, HAD LOLLIE heard? Was she awake? No, Stella thought not. Her soft breathing was as regular as the swinging of a pendulum. The arm that encircled her waist was as unconscious as a sleeping baby’s.

7

SO THAT WAS the story! Oh, what a fool she had been! A handicap to Laurel! And not because of unfair stories, of whispered scandals (these women didn’t know who she was, didn’t even know she wasn’t living with her husband), but just because of herself. Was she so awful—so God-awful, then?