He did not speak again until the journey was almost over, when, in the city limits, he slackened his speed.
"You've been of great service—" again he tried vainly to remember Ellen's name.
Ellen wiped her eyes.
"I'm very sorry for her," she said.
"Yes," said Stephen heavily. His own eyes smarted, though he had never expected to shed tears for Hilda.
Fetzer, hearing the motor, opened the door. She felt, it must be confessed, a little jealousy—it was she who should have helped Stephen! She climbed with Ellen the narrow stairway at the back of the house, and Stephen went up the broader stairway to his dressing-room. She sat with Ellen while she got ready for bed.
"It was God's will that the colored girl was out," she said devoutly. "Nobody will know anything. Even those women in the office don't need to know, ain't it so, Ellen?"
"I shan't tell them."
Fetzer rose and laid her hand across her cheek.
"Most people think he laid all this time on a bed of roses. But we know."