"Oh, yes, indeed."

Nora was thankful to be alone once more. She wanted to think it all out.
What a day it had been. Starting with such high hopes to end only in
utter disaster. She felt completely exhausted by the emotions she had
undergone. Time enough to plan to-morrow. To-night she needed rest.

Two days later, in the late afternoon, she found herself in the train
for London, the second journey she had taken in ten years. Once, three
years before, Miss Wickham had been persuaded to go up and pay the James
Wickhams a short visit and had taken Nora with her.

It could hardly have been described as a pleasure trip. Miss Wickham
detested visiting and had only yielded to her nephew's importunities
because she had never been in his London house to stay any time and had
an avid curiosity to see how they lived. She had of course disapproved
of everything she saw about the establishment. But, as it was no part of
her purpose to let the fact be known to her relatives, she had in a
large measure vented her consequent ill-humor upon her unfortunate
companion.

The last few days had seemed full, indeed. No matter how little one may
really care for a place, the process of uprooting after ten years is not
an easy one. Mr. Wynne had been to see her to renew his offer of
assistance and counsel in any plan she might have for the future and she
had spent an hour with the good doctor and his wife. The dreaded
invitation from Mrs. Hubbard had duly arrived and had turned out to be
for dinner, an extraordinary honor. Nora had accepted it entirely on
Miss Pringle's account. Mrs. Hubbard had been condescension itself and
had even gone the length of excusing Miss Pringle from the evening's