Ahead she saw a strip of woods. Her brain began to function. That would be the grove just before you came to old Julia Hartshorn’s house, and Julia Hartshorn lived just outside of Heatherdell. Heatherdell was a little town and she knew many of the people. She would not be lonely there. But where could she go? She must not be seen out at that time of night by any one she knew unless she came to it and appealed for help. That would mean that she would have to tell the circumstances of her being out from home in the blackness of night. That would mean criticism for Eugene and Nannette, no matter how gently she might tell her tale, nor how much she took the blame upon herself. And that would have hurt Aunt Mary. For Aunt Mary’s sake she must not let any talk go around. Aunt Mary knew that Nannette was jealous of her, and that Eugene was sometimes hard on her, but Aunt Mary loved her son, even though she knew his faults, and Joyce would never willingly make any gossip that would reflect upon the family. Eugene was right. He knew Joyce’s conscience. It was functioning right on true to type even now in her terror and perplexity. If only she had not gone to that cemetery! If only she had not turned aside and allowed herself to give up and cry upon Aunt Mary’s grave, and lose all that time. She might have been far away now, in a safe, quiet room somewhere that she had hired for the night. There would have been places where she could have found a room for a very little. She had some money, she didn’t remember how much, with her--it didn’t matter. There were a few dollars. Perhaps, too, she had put that gold piece in her handbag, she wasn’t sure of that. The day had been so long and hard, so many things had been within its hours. She could not recall what she had picked up to carry with her that morning. She was too weary to care. But she couldn’t bear to go away without bidding good-bye to the spot where Aunt Mary and her mother lay, and perhaps too she had felt she could better think what to do, there in the quiet with the two graves. Well, there was no use in excusing herself. She had gone. She shuddered at the horror of the last hour, and then that burden again to find out it was that one--and to wonder. What had he been doing? Was it then true, all the whispers that had come to her ears, of his life? Around the bend ahead dashed a light. A car was coming at last. She remembered he had said he would come after her. She glanced back, but it was all darkness. Even if he did come would she want to meet him? Could she explain her presence out at night? He was now an almost stranger. He knew naught of her life. And perhaps it would be better if she did not know his.