"She looks it."

"Well, one might expect her to fade away a bit because of Henri's
absence. I wonder if she's heard from him since the armistice?"

"If she hasn't she'll need something besides a change of climate, I
assure you," laughed Ruth again. "She hates ocean voyaging, does Jennie;
but she wouldn't wait till she could go in an ox-cart to get back to
France if Henri forgot to write."

There was one thing sure: Jennie Stone was a delighted host when Helen
arrived in New York a few days ahead of Ruth and Wonota. Ruth had not
intended to go to the Stones; she would have felt more independent at a
hotel. She did not know what engagements Mr. Hammond or the director of
the picture might make for her. So she tried to dodge Jennie's
invitation.

When the train got in from New England, however, and Ruth and the Indian
girl, following a red-capped porter with their bags, walked through the
gateway of entrance to the concourse of the Grand Central Terminal,
there were both Jennie and Helen waiting to spy them.

"Mr. Hammond told me to come to the Borneaux. He has made reservations
there," Ruth said.

"That's all right for to-morrow," declared Jennie bruskly. "Hotel rooms
are all right to make up in, or anything like that. But you are both
going to my house for to-night"