Mrs. Marshall-Smith's face was averted and she did not turn it back
as she said, "Just run along into the shop and leave your glass,
Sylvia--here is the money."

After Sylvia took her seat again in the carriage, the coachman turned
the horse's head back up the Main Street. "Aren't you going to the
campus?" asked Sylvia in surprise.

"No, we are going to the hotel," said Aunt Victoria. She spoke
quietly, and seemed to look as usual, but Sylvia's inner barometer
fell fast with a conviction of a change in the emotional atmosphere.
She sat as still as possible, and only once glanced up timidly at
her aunt's face. There was no answering glance. Aunt Victoria gazed
straight in front of her. Her face looked as it did when it was being
massaged--all smooth and empty. There was, however, one change. For
the first time that day, she looked a little pale.

As the carriage stopped in front of the onyx-lined, palm-decorated,
plate-glass-mirrored "entrance hall" of the expensive hotel, Aunt
Victoria descended, motioning to Sylvia not to follow her. "I haven't
time to drive any more this afternoon," she said. "Peter will take you
home. And have him bring Arnold back at once." She turned away and, as
Sylvia sat watching her, entered the squirrel-cage revolving door of
glass, which a little boy in livery spun about for her.

But after she was inside the entrance hall, she signified to him that
she had forgotten something, and came immediately out again. What
she had forgotten surprised Sylvia as much as it touched her. Aunt
Victoria came rapidly to the side of the carriage and put out her