in a series of disconnected utterances:

"No, the alarm didn't go off--a--Marion. I got up at 6 o'clock. I
turned the alarm off. It is 6:30 now. I don't know what woke me. I
just woke up."

Marion arose, wondering at the peculiar manner of her roommate and the
strained, almost convulsive, tone of her voice. She asked no further
questions, but proceeded with her dressing and preparation for
breakfast. For the time being, she forgot all about the two letters in
her handbag that lay on her dresser.

In some respects Helen was a peculiar girl. If her speech and action
had been characterized with more vim, vigor and imagination,
doubtlessly she would generally have been known as a pretty girl. As
it was, her features were regular, her complexion fair, her eyes blue,
and her hair a light brown. Marion thought her pretty, but Marion had
associated with her intimately for two or three years, and had
discovered qualities in her that mere acquaintances could never have
discovered. She had found Helen apparently to be possessed of a
strong, direct conception of integrity, never vacillating in manner or
sympathies. Moreover, she exhibited a quiet, unwavering capability in
her work that always commanded the respect, and occasionally the
admiration, of both classmates and teachers.

Not only was Helen quiet of disposition, but strangely secretive on
certain subjects. For instance, she seldom said anything about her
home or relatives. She lived in Villa Park, a small town midway
between Westmoreland and Hollyhill. Her father was dead, and, when not
at school, she had lived with her mother; these two, so far as Marion