“Good-by, Miss Marsh,” he said warmly, “and good luck.”

A quarter of an hour later Taylor came to her in the stuffy little parlor of which she was the solitary tenant.  In silence they made their way to the building occupied by the Y. W. C. A.

“You have money?” he asked as they reached the door.

“Plenty, thanks.”

“Do you want me to come in with you?”

“It isn’t necessary.”

“What time shall I come for you to-morrow?”

“At whatever time you choose.”

“Shall we say ten, then?  Or eleven might be better.  I’ve got to get the license, you know, and look up the parson.”

“Very good; at eleven.”

“Good night, Nora.”

“Good night, Frank.”

Nora’s first impulse on being shown to a room was to go at once to bed.  Mind and body both cried out for rest.  But she remembered that she had eaten nothing since noon.  She would need all her strength for the morrow.  She supposed they would start at once for Taylor’s farm after they were married.

Good God, since the world began had any woman ever trapped herself so completely as she had done!  But she must not think of that.

She had not the most remote idea where the farm was.  All she remembered to have heard was that it was west of Winnipeg, miles farther than her brother’s.  One couldn’t drive to it, it was necessary to take the train.  But whether it was a day’s journey or a week’s journey, she had never been interested enough to ask.  After all, what could it possibly matter where it was; the farther away from everybody and everything she had ever known, the better.

The sound of a gong in the hall below recalled her thoughts to the matter of supper.  She went down to a bare little dining-room, only partly filled, and accepted silently the various dishes set before her all at one time.  She had never seen a dinner—­or supper, they probably called it—­served in such a haphazard fashion.

Even at Gertie’s—­she smiled wanly at the thought that since the morning she no longer thought of it as her brother’s, but as Gertie’s—­while such a thing as a dinner served in courses had probably never been heard of by anyone but Reggie, her brother and herself, the few simple, well-cooked dishes bore some relation to each other, and the supply was always ample.  Gertie was justly proud of her reputation as a good provider.

But here there was a sort of mockery of abundance.  Dabs of vegetables, sauces, preserves, meats, both hot and cold, in cheap little china dishes fairly elbowed each other for room.  It would have dulled a keener appetite than poor Nora’s.

Having managed to swallow a cup of weak tea and a piece of heavy bread, she went once more to her room and sat down by the window which looked out on what she took to be one of the principal streets of the town.  Tired as she still was, she felt not the slightest inclination for sleep.  The thought of lying there, wakeful, in the dark, filled her with terror.  For the first time in her life, Nora was frightened.  She pressed her face against the window to watch the infrequent passers-by.  Surely none of them could be as unhappy as she.  Like a hideous refrain, over and over in her head rang the words: