are going to do."

Suzanne refused to talk. She was thinking what she could do. Eugene was
back in New York. He would expect her Thursday.

"Yes, Suzanne," put in Kinroy. "Why not take ma's advice? She's trying
to do the best thing by you. This is a terrible thing you are trying to
do. Why not listen to common sense and stay up here three or four
months?"

"Don't talk like a parrot, Kinroy! I'm hearing all this from mama."

When her mother reproached her, she said: "Oh, hush, mama, I don't care
to hear anything more. I won't do anything of the sort. You lied to me.
You said you were going to Albany. You brought me out here under a
pretence. Now you can take me back. I won't go to any lodge. I won't go
anywhere, except to New York. You might just as well not argue with me."

The train rolled on. Breakfast was served. The private car was switched
to the tracks of the Canadian Pacific at Montreal. Her mother's pleas
continued. Suzanne refused to eat. She sat and looked out of the window,
meditating over this strange denouement. Where was Eugene? What was he
doing? What would he think when she did not come back? She was not
enraged at her mother. She was merely contemptuous of her. This trick
irritated and disgusted her. She was not thinking of Eugene in any wild
way, but merely that she would get back to him. She conceived of him
much as she did of herself though her conception of her real self was
still vague as strong, patient, resourceful, able to live without her a
little while if he had to. She was eager to see him, but really more
eager that he should see her if he wanted to. What a creature he must
take her mother to be!

By noon they had reached Juinata, by two o'clock they were fifty miles
west of Quebec. At first, Suzanne thought she would not eat at all to
spite her mother. Later she reasoned that that was silly and ate. She
made it exceedingly unpleasant for them by her manner, and they realized
that by bringing her away from New York they had merely transferred
their troubles. Her spirit was not broken as yet. It filled the car with
a disturbing vibration.

"Suzanne," questioned her mother at one point, "won't you talk to me?
Won't you see I'm trying to do this for your own good? I want to give
you time to think. I really don't want to coerce you, but you must see."

Suzanne merely stared out of the window at the green fields speeding by.

"Suzanne! Don't you see this will never do? Can't you see how