Alice tiptoed into Mrs. Gorham's room, then started to withdraw as
Eleanor appeared to be asleep, but the older woman stopped her.
"Come in, dear," she said; "I am only resting."
"Are you ill?" the girl asked, anxiously, all thought of her errand vanishing; "you were looking very tired at breakfast."
"I did not sleep last night," she replied, rising wearily from the bed, and pressing her hands against her temples as she sat down. "I am so perplexed that I don't know which way to turn. I wonder if you could advise me, Alice?"
"If only I could be of help to you!" the girl exclaimed, drawing another chair close to Eleanor's, and taking both her hands in her own.
Eleanor made no reply for several moments. "I don't know what to do," she said simply at last. "I want to have my life an open book to your father, yet in this one instance I can't see my way clear."
"Why, Eleanor!" cried the girl, surprised, "how can that be possible?"
"I don't wonder you ask; that is the question I have set myself to answer. I saw Ralph Buckner yesterday as I was driving up Fifth Avenue, and the sight of him filled me with apprehension."
"Your first husband—in New York?" Alice asked, surprised.
"Yes—what can he be doing here?"