her night in a train.

This sense of physical discomfort was the first to assert itself; then
she perceived, beneath it, a corresponding mental prostration, a languor
of horror more insufferable than the first rush of her disgust. The
thought of having to wake every morning with this weight on her breast
roused her tired mind to fresh effort. She must find some way out of the
slough into which she had stumbled: it was not so much compunction as the
dread of her morning thoughts that pressed on her the need of action. But
she was unutterably tired; it was weariness to think connectedly. She lay
back, looking about the poor slit of a room with a renewal of physical
distaste. The outer air, penned between high buildings, brought no
freshness through the window; steam-heat was beginning to sing in a coil
of dingy pipes, and a smell of cooking penetrated the crack of the door.

The door opened, and Gerty, dressed and hatted, entered with a cup of
tea. Her face looked sallow and swollen in the dreary light, and her dull
hair shaded imperceptibly into the tones of her skin.

She glanced shyly at Lily, asking in an embarrassed tone how she felt;
Lily answered with the same constraint, and raised herself up to drink
the tea.

"I must have been over-tired last night; I think I had a nervous attack
in the carriage," she said, as the drink brought clearness to her
sluggish thoughts.

"You were not well; I am so glad you came here," Gerty returned.

"But how am I to get home? And Aunt Julia--?"

"She knows; I telephoned early, and your maid has brought your things.
But won't you eat something? I scrambled the eggs myself."

Lily could not eat; but the tea strengthened her to rise and dress under
her maid's searching gaze. It was a relief to her that Gerty was obliged
to hasten away: the two kissed silently, but without a trace of the
previous night's emotion.

Lily found Mrs. Peniston in a state of agitation. She had sent for Grace
Stepney and was taking digitalis. Lily breasted the storm of enquiries as
best she could, explaining that she had had an attack of faintness on her
way back from Carry Fisher's; that, fearing she would not have strength
to reach home, she had gone to Miss Farish's instead; but that a quiet
night had restored her, and that she had no need of a doctor.

This was a relief to Mrs. Peniston, who could give herself up to her own
symptoms, and Lily was advised to go and lie down, her aunt's panacea fo