Here at last she had definite knowledge of how her father had regarded his practical expulsion from Food Products. Now, as she met her father and Armstrong, as Slosson made his greetings and farewells, she was scarcely conscious of what passed; her eyes went from her father to her husband, searching and probing. What was it that Slosson knew? What was there that she did not know, about that change of management? Or was it all imagination? Now, as that night in Evansville, she found herself fighting doubt with doubt, distrust with distrust. Here in the hotel, on the way to the steamer, in the stateroom itself--again and again she was impelled to speak out, to utter everything, to force a complete understanding. Yet she dared not. What had she to utter? Suspicion. Suspicion--of her husband! It was unthinkable. Each time the temptation came, pride and love--love most of all--exorcised the thought. In her father's face she read the lines of hidden hurt; or was it all her own fancy? Tormented, doubtful of herself, she held her peace. And now that other fear returned upon her, the fear upspringing from knowledge of the life beneath her heart. Was it possible that she was allowing some unnatural obsession to prey on her mind? She dreaded this possibility, dreaded it unspeakably! And now, as before, she struggled against it all, fought desperately with heart and soul and mind against it. When she and Reese had waved the last adieu and were being driven back through the city, Armstrong talked of things that had occurred that morning. He was enthused, beaming, radiating energy and confidence. "Your Stockholders' Protective Association is now a fact, lady!" he declared happily. "Judge Holcomb is to head the committee of three; we've written President Bruton of Baliol and I'm to run up there to-morrow and see him, and if possible secure him for second place. And for the third man, whom do you think we've secured? Rupert Sessions!" "What!" Dorothy was startled out of her troubled train of thought. "Sessions--the lecturer and novelist? The man who wrote all those business novels? Why, he lectured in Evansville just before we were married!" "The same!" Armstrong laughed in delight. "Some one found that he was a stockholder and lived just outside town. We had him up at the office this morning, laid everything before him; he's with us. And to-morrow we file suit on behalf of the Association--suit for one million dollars against Macgowan and Findlater, on the grounds of conspiracy, and demand their removal. Things are looking up, I tell you!" Dorothy stared through the car window, her brain riotous. With such men as Rupert Sessions, Dorns, Holcomb, Bruton, behind this husband of hers, nationally known figures, backing him with their faith and high repute and money--was she to entertain such vague and shadowy doubts, such petty and base doubts, of him?