Again serious thought pressed in upon her from all sides.  She could not long delay the necessity of letting Kenneth, and Kenneth’s family, know that she would not do her share in their most recent arrangement for his comfort.  And after that—–?  Susan had no doubt that it would be the beginning of the end of her stay here.  Not that it would be directly given as the reason for her going; they had their own ways of bringing about what suited them, these people.

But what of Stephen?  And again warmth and confidence and joy rose in her heart.  How big and true and direct he was, how far from everything that flourished in this warm and perfumed atmosphere!  “It must be right to trust him,” Susan said to herself, and it seemed to her that even to trust him supremely, and to brave the storm that would follow, would be a step in the right direction.  Out of the unnatural atmosphere of this house, gone forever from the cold and repressing poverty of her aunt’s, she would be out in the open air, free to breathe and think and love and work—–­

“Oh, that nine is the best, Miss Brown!  You trumped it—–­”

Susan brought her attention to the game again.  When the cards were finally laid down, tea followed, and Susan must pour it.  After that she ran up to her room to find Emily there, dressing for dinner.

“Oh, Sue, there you are!  Listen, Mama wants you to go in and see her a minute before dinner,” Emily said.

“I am dead!” Susan began flinging off her things, loosened the masses of her hair, and shook it about her, tore off her tight slippers and flung them away.

“Should think you would be,” Emily said sympathetically.  She was evidently ready for confidences, but Susan evaded them.  At least she owed no explanation to Emily!

“El wants to put you up for the club,” called Emily above the rush of hot water into the bathtub.

“Why should she?” Susan called back smiling, but uneasy, but Emily evidently did not hear.

“Don’t forget to look in on Mama,” she said again, when Susan was dressed.  Susan nodded.

“But, Lord, this is a terrible place to try to think in!” the girl thought, knocking dutifully on Mrs. Saunders’ door.

The old lady, in a luxurious dressing-gown, was lying on the wide couch that Miss Baker had drawn up before the fire.

“There’s the girl I thought had forgotten all about me!” said Mrs. Saunders in tremulous, smiling reproach.  Susan went over and, although uncomfortably conscious of the daughterliness of the act, knelt down beside her, and squeezed the little shell-like hand.  Miss Baker smiled from the other side of the room where she was folding up the day-covers of the bed with windmill sweeps of her arms.

“Well, now, I didn’t want to keep you from your dinner,” murmured the old lady.  “I just wanted to give you a little kiss, and tell you that I’ve been thinking about you!”