"No, I hadn't heard."
"Well, he is! They say the wedding isn't coming off till next spring. I guess he's bound to have all he can get out of his freedom till then—he won't have much after he's tied to that silly-pate!"
"She looks it all right! Her mother isn't any too smart."
"No, and the Puddicombe side is worse. We used to think that Si
Puddicombe knew less than nothing! And Le Grand Puddicombe—"
Juanita Sterling edged a little closer into the seat corner. She had no interest in Le Grand Puddicombe. She stared into the night. A raw wind struck her face. Thick clouds had suddenly shut out the moon, and a chill over-spread the earth. All was dark, dark, except for the flashing lines ahead. The steady pur-r-r-r-r-ing of the car was in the air. Miss Castlevaine's monotonous voice ran on and on; but, the little woman at the end of the seat realized nothing except the insistent words knelling through her brain,—"Engaged to Blanche Puddicombe! Engaged to Blanche Puddicombe!"
It was not until she was in her room, with the door safely locked, that she commanded herself sufficiently to answer the clanging voice.
"I don't believe it! I don't believe it!" she burst out. "It's a lie!—a miserable, sneaking lie!"
"Engaged to Blanche Puddicombe! Engaged to Blanche Puddicombe!" was the mocking retort.
She dropped on her knees by the bedside and covered her face with her hands.
"Oh, God," she whispered, "forgive me for being a fool!"