In vain did she tell herself that she was probably all wrong. The girl might be a spoiled darling who was childishly insisting on some extravagance which the man, older and wiser, was trying to reason her out of. But try as she would, she could not make it seem that way. The man had a selfish sophistication about him that made her distrust him. Both the young people were well dressed, with that regard to quiet elegance that showed they had plenty of money, and belonged to what is known as the higher social class. The trouble could not be about money. Mary Dunlap turned her eyes away from them at last, resolved to wonder no more about these strangers who had caught her passing interest. It was none of her business anyway, what troubled these two. They would have to settle their own affairs. There was obviously no way in which she could help them; and perhaps even this kindly observation was a species of eavesdropping. She would think no more about them. With her eyes on the dark landscape outside the window, she began to think about those two hours that the train had lost and to wonder what she could possibly do about it in case she missed her connection at the junction. Being a methodical woman, and a careful planner she was not used to missing her appointments, and it was most annoying to have the train crawl along this way, and then stop for unexplainable periods. Nevertheless, there was a certain resignation about her annoyance. She believed fully that design, not mere chance or Fate determines our ways, and reorders our plannings sometimes, in accordance with All-seeing wisdom; and she could not help wondering why her plans had been put in jeopardy. For a long time she watched the lights of the little villages go flying by, for now the train seemed to have taken up a steady, dogged trot, and rolled along without stopping as if it had made up its mind to get home sometime. But when she finally turned her gaze back to the car again she could see that the two in front of her had not settled their argument yet. They were not talking much now, but each face was eloquent of disagreement. The girl's eyes held unshed tears, and her look was openly anxious. Now and then she cast a pleading look at her companion, and said a little wistful word, ending in a sigh. The man was still stubbornly positive, his lips curving in a superior smile of amusement at the girl's reiterated objections. Again Mary Dunlap began to realize that her own interest in the affair was unwarrantably eager. She must stop thinking about these two people or they would pretty soon turn around suddenly and see her staring at them. But just at that instant there occurred a happy interruption. The brakeman came eagerly through the train as one bearing welcome news, shouting the name of the Junction at last. Mrs. Dunlap sat up briskly and looked at her watch. Ten minutes past midnight! Would the other train have waited?