"My dear!" she said in her warm comforting strong voice, "Just you cry if you want to, and don't worry about telling me. I'm used to helping mothers and girls. It is my job in life. And don't you worry. I'm going to help you, and I thank God I can. I'm glad too that you have told me this, for now I can speak frankly and tell you all I know. It is going to make things a lot easier to set right. And now, I've got to tell you the whole story."
[CHAPTER V]
THE voice was low and tender in which she began her story of the afternoon on the train. She made it plain that she had been so busy with her writing that she scarcely noticed who got on the train until toward evening when her work was done. She had been barely conscious of the two who took the seat in front of her, had given them but a swift glance and decided that they were bride and groom; until her work was done and she had leisure to look around. And then almost at once she was fascinated by the lovely face of the girl in front of her.
Mary Dunlap was quick to note the pleased relaxing of the troubled face as she said this, and the instant sympathy as she gave her own first impression of the man who was sitting beside the girl.
But as the tale progressed showing how late the train was, with inevitable missed connections, the mother's eye kindled with gratitude.
"Oh!" she interrupted, "I'm so glad you were there! What would Daisy have done if you had not been. She is so unused to traveling alone!"
Mary Dunlap went on to tell of the apparent argument between the two in front of her, the discomfort on the face of the girl, and her own continued wonder that such a girl should apparently be married to a man so much older, and of such a type. The mother gave a little gasp of dismay as she realized that this fine Christian woman had actually thought her daughter was married to that man! But it was only the dismay she had felt before at the horrible thought of him, and the old resentment at the idea of his presuming to be intimate with her girl.
Not until the story progressed to the point where Mrs. Dunlap stood before the hotel desk writing her own name in the registry and noted the names on the line just above her own, "R. H. Keller and wife," did the mother grasp the full meaning of it all. Then she leaned forward with a quick little motion and caught at both the firm capable hands of her visitor, crying:
"Oh, Mrs. Dunlap! You don't mean it! You can't mean that he dared do a thing like that! The wretch! The—the—beast!"
Her eyes were full of tears again. She could not seem to be able to get words strong enough to express her horror and disgust.