It was good and dark when the train pulled into Washington at last. The dark gave Marie Louise another reason for dismay. The appearance of a man who had dined at Sir Joseph’s, and the necessity for telling him the lie about that death, had brought on a crisis of nerves. She was afraid of the dark, 89 but more afraid of the man who might ask still more questions. She avoided him purposely when she left the train.
A porter took her hand-baggage and led her to the taxi-stand. Polly Widdicombe’s car was not waiting. Marie Louise went to the front of the building to see if she might be there. She was appalled at the thought of Polly’s not meeting her. She needed her blessed giggle as never before.
It was a very majestic station. Marie Louise had heard people say that it was much too majestic for a railroad station. As if America did not owe more to the iron god of the rails than to any of her other deities!
Before her was the Capitol, lighted from below, its dome floating cloudily above the white parapets as if mystically sustained. The superb beauty of it clutched her throat. She wanted to do something for it and all the holy ideals it symbolized.
Evidently Polly was not coming. The telegram had probably never reached her. The porter asked her, “Was you thinkin’ of a taxi?” and she said, “Yes,” only to realize that she had no address to give the driver. 90
BOOK III
IN WASHINGTON