Janetta touched her gently, whispering:
“You are very pale—I hope not ill.”
She could fancy that she was ghastly to evoke this anxiety, so she answered:
“I do not feel quite my usual self. I am thinking of not going on to-night any further than Charlottesville, and resuming our journey to-morrow, if I am better.”
“Perhaps that is the better plan,” the maid returned, respectfully, though secretly rather disappointed at delaying the journey.
But she was used to her mistress and her capricious notions. She had simply to obey.
So when they reached the university town a little further on, the mistress and maid left the train, to the great relief of Everard Dawn, who thought:
“I was right. She is en route for Washington. She will board the Northern train at this point. But how lonely it seemed, just the two women traveling together. I remember she used to be one of those dependent women, always preferring a man’s escort. Arthur ought to be with her now, poor Paulina!”
Mrs. Flint exclaimed:
“Was not that Mrs. Varian leaving the train?”