a vague, grey gloom
rising about her at the thought of spending several months there, with
Cecil in this strange, cold, forbidding mood. She looked out of the
window as she told the oft-repeated story of "The Three Bears," her
subconscious mind attending to the tale, her fancy selecting bits in
flying hedge and fence that she would jump were she riding to hounds
across that country. Purposely she put serious matters from her. The
rough music of the train lulled her mind. She seemed caught up by the
swift motion, whirled from the ordinary course of life. The fixed events
in it seemed like the stations that they passed--existent only in a
world already wheeling backward.

By the time that Darlington was reached, Bobby had begun to grow fretful
from the journey. He demanded to be given the small engine on its stone
pedestal in the station there. "Baby Puff-Puff!" he announced. "Bobby
want--Bobby _want_!" Sophy sent Miller into the next carriage with him.
She had seen Chesney's eyes contract and fix upon the boy. The change of
train annoyed him. Besides, he was beginning to crave another dose of
morphia. The time for the dose to be given by Gaynor had not yet come.
When it did it would be so small that it would barely temper the fierce
lust of his accustomed nerves. He closed his eyes, frowning, his lip
between his teeth. There was a bluish shade about his mouth. His eyes
looked sunken thus closed, in the sidelight from the carriage-window.

Sophy watched him anxiously. She saw that Gaynor also glanced towards
him from time to time. Lady Wychcote had dozed off, with her little
travelling-cushion of green morocco behind her head. She slept tightly,
as one might say, her eyelids and lips shut fast. She looked old asleep.
Her mouth settled and drew down at the corners. Old and hard and
disappointed her face looked under its spotted veil, which from a hardy
vanity she had not raised when reading.

Chesney crossed and uncrossed his legs several times. The hand on his
knee clenched, until the great knuckles shone yellow with little reddish
streaks outlining the bones. The eyes of Sophy and Gaynor met. In answer
to her look the valet approached, treading softly.

"Do you not think--considering the long journey--we might give an--an
extra dose, Gaynor?" she whispered.

"Yes, madam. I was thinking that," he whispered back.

Chesney's lids flew open at these whisperings, which seemed to have
reached him even through the dull ro