Numbed by fatigue and suffering, the trip soon became a nightmare of swift darkness. Heavy stupor descended upon her. It was not until hours later, when skirting along the shores of the Hudson, that she emerged to full consciousness. Night had already fallen and the river heaved black and silver, like a huge snake beneath the pale light of the stars. They were stopping at a station near the water's edge, and as Claire peered out of the window, there came to her a violent temptation to run down the corridor and leap out into the inky, rippleless, depths. Why not? It would be the best thing that could happen for everybody as well as for herself. Life was hateful, bitter, terrifying. Here was, if not rest and peace, at least cessation of agony. Her aunt would hardly feel the difference and as for Alexis? He would be free to marry again, and this time not blunderingly, like a dazed unhappy child, but with his senses awakened, and for love. A lump stabbed her in the throat like a dagger-thrust. She staggered to her feet and started to lurch out into the aisle. There came a sudden roaring as of a high wind and darkness fell upon her. When consciousness returned, the train was entering the Grand Central station. Life still clung heavily upon her weary soul, but she was too torn, too utterly distraught to think of any new means of self-destruction. She took a taxi to the apartment in 59th Street and with the connivance of Ito gained her room without her aunt's knowledge. Welcomed rapturously by the disconsolate Bébé, she fell upon the bed fully clothed, and into the deep, dreamless, sleep of utter exhaustion. * * * * *