ppened at her wedding when she overheard someone saying to Edith, by
whom she was standing: "Yes, on the two o'clock train. I was down to see
Helen off, and saw her myself--walking away with Ted."

Amy noticed that the other women, who also had overheard, were only
politely appearing to be listening to her now, and were really
discreetly trying to hear what these two were saying. She brought her
story to a close.

"You mean Ruth Holland?" one of the women asked, and the two groups
became one.

Amy drew herself up; her head went a little higher, her lips tightened;
then, conscious of that, she relaxed and stood a little apart, seeming
only to be courteously listening to a thing in which she had no part.
They talked in lowered tones of how strange it seemed to feel Ruth was
back in that town. They had a different manner now--a sort of carefully
restrained avidity. "How does she look?" one of the women asked in that
lowered tone.

"Well," said the woman who had been at the train, "she hasn't kept
herself _up_. Really, I was surprised. You'd think a woman in her
position would make a particular effort to--to make the most of herself,
now, wouldn't you? What else has she to go on? But really, she wasn't at
all good style, and sort of--oh, as if she had let herself _go_, I
thought. Though,"--she turned to Edith in saying this--"there's that
same old thing about her; I saw her smile up at Ted as they walked
away--and she seemed all different then. You know how it always used to
be with Ruth--so different from one minute to another."

Edith turned away, rather abruptly, and joined another group. Amy could
not make out her look; it seemed--why it seemed pain; as if it hurt her
to hear what they were saying. Could it be that she still
_cared_?--after the way she had been treated? That seemed impossible,
even in one who had the sweet nature Mrs. Blair certainly had.

While the women about her were still talking of Ruth Holland, Amy saw
Stuart Williams' wife come out of the dining room and stand there alone
for a minute looking about the room. It gave her a shock. The whole
thing seemed so terrible, so fascinatingly terrible. And it seemed
unreal; as a thing one might read or hear about, but not the sort of
thing one's own life would come anywhere near. Mrs. Williams' eyes
rested on their little group and Amy had a feeling that somehow she knew
what they were talking about. As her eyes followed the other woman's
about the ro