e seemed
to strike against something, and started up in bed.

A laugh came from the next room. It was not muffled, as before, but
frank and clear. It was woman's laughter, and Langbourne easily inferred
girlhood as well as womanhood from it. His neighbors must have come by
the late train, and they had probably begun to talk as soon as they got
into their room. He imagined their having spoken low at first for fear
of disturbing some one, and then, in their forgetfulness, or their
belief that there was no one near, allowed themselves greater freedom.
There were survivals of their earlier caution at times, when their
voices sank so low as scarcely to be heard; then there was a break from
it when they rose clearly distinguishable from each other. They were
never so distinct that he could make out what was said; but each voice
unmistakably conveyed character.

Friendship between girls is never equal; they may equally love each
other, but one must worship and one must suffer worship. Langbourne read
the differing temperaments necessary to this relation in the differing
voices. That which bore mastery was a low, thick murmur, coming from
deep in the throat, and flowing out in a steady stream of indescribable
coaxing and drolling. The owner of that voice had imagination and humor
which could charm with absolute control her companion's lighter nature,
as it betrayed itself in a gay tinkle of amusement and a succession of
nervous whispers. Langbourne did not wonder at her subjection; with the
first sounds of that rich, tender voice, he had fallen under its spell
too; and he listened intensely, trying to make out some phrase, some
word, some syllable. But the talk kept its sub-audible flow, and he had
to content himself as he could with the sound of the voice.

As he lay eavesdropping with all his might he tried to construct an
image of the two girls from their voices. The one with the crystalline
laugh was little and lithe, quick in movement, of a mobile face, with
gray eyes and fair hair; the other was tall and pale, with full, blue
eyes and a regular face, and lips that trembled with humor; very demure
and yet very honest; very shy and yet very frank; there was something
almost mannish in her essential honesty; there was nothing of feminine
coquetry in her, though everything of feminine charm. She was a girl who
looked like her father, Langbourne perceived with a flash of divination.
She dressed simply in dark blue, and her h