Henrietta's maid admitted her to the quiet, orderly living room. Dr. Gilbert was in her office. She would be free soon. Catherine sat down at the window, looking idly out at the great steel framework which shadowed the room. How long ago she had looked down into pits of water and uncouth shapes of cranes! New Year's Day. And Henry had said, "You'd be a fool not to go." The methodical arrangement of the room was restful, sane, after the hurly-burly of the last week. Distressing that confusion could so fray the edges of yourself. She closed her eyes, relaxing into a kind of blankness. She opened them presently, to find Henrietta in the doorway, staring through her eyeglasses, her mouth firm and compassionate. "Hello!" Catherine moved hastily erect. "Don't turn that professional stare on me. I won't have it." "Hoped you were asleep." Henrietta came in. "Bill hasn't shown up yet. Perhaps we'd better go down to the dining room. Your train is so beastly early. Where's Charles?" "Checking the trunks. He'll be in soon." As they waited for the elevator, Catherine turned suddenly upon Henrietta. "You know, Henry, I appreciate your not telling me what you think. I suppose you're disgusted, and you haven't said a word. Not since I told you we were going." "Not disgusted." Henrietta thrust her eyeglasses between the buttons of her jacket. "I've been rather cut up about it. But it's your affair. I don't see that you could do anything else. Not now, at any rate." "Perhaps some women could. I can't." "Women can't alone." Henrietta sounded violent. "Not without men helping them. Being willing to help them. So long as their own affairs come first----" The door of the elevator swung open. "When Mr. Gilbert comes in, tell him we are at dinner. And Mr. Hammond, too." "Yes, ma'am." Henrietta nodded to the waiter, who led them into an alcove off the main dining room. "Quiet in here." Henrietta settled herself briskly. Catherine was thinking: Henrietta manages her life so that things, mere things, never get in her way--laundry, or food, or packing. "I wanted to see you make a go of it," said Henrietta. "You're so darned intelligent. It's the children, I know. If it weren't for them, you could stay here. If you would. Probably Charles would pull you along by a heartstring even then. Now, Bill---- But I'll let him speak for himself. He has some news." "Perhaps"--Catherine did not glance up--"perhaps, Henry, I've just been knocked flat at the end of the first round. Who knows? I may get my wind back--in Buxton." "What can you do in a country town?" Catherine did not answer; Charles was coming toward them, buoyant, touched with excitement, and behind him, Bill. Charles tucked the checks into her purse. "I'll mail these others to the Dean," he said. "Great place we're going to. The Dean himself has offered to see to our chattels. Going to store them in some building on the campus until we come. Real human beings in Buxton!"