When she stepped from the car in front of Brim’s general merchandise store, it was as if she had stepped into a foreign land. The street, all things about her, were so familiar that she only remembered afterwards the strangeness of familiar faces. Two men whom she knew passed her with their eyes down. A woman regarded her with furtive curiosity and returned her salutation with the briefest bow, as if she did not really know her. All this happened so quickly that she was not yet aware that something very personal to her was happening. She was still off her guard when Mrs. Flitch sailed by her between the lace and stocking counter, merely giving her an eye-for-an-eye look, but with no further recognition, although Helen had wished her a “Good afternoon, Mrs. Flitch.” She disposed of this hint by wondering what she had done to Mrs. Flitch, because this lady was notoriously sensitive. She had a turgid temper and reserved the right to show her poverty and independence on the slightest provocation by ceasing to speak to you. Half an hour later when she came out to her car, a cold rain was beginning. She saw Mrs. Shaw approaching with no umbrella to protect her new spring hat. She waited, meaning to pick her up and take her wherever she should be going. But when she hailed her, this lady affected not to understand. She bowed coldly with the rain in her face and said, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Cutter,” although she had always called her “Helen,” and passed on. It is depressing to find yourself suddenly outlawed by the people whom you have always known. Helen was never popular in Shannon. Unhappy people rarely ever are. They have so little to contribute to the common fund of human animation. But she had a certain standing in the good will of her neighbors. It was not until she reached the bank that the explanation of what was going on really dawned upon her. She had known that it must come, this news of her abandonment by her husband, but she had not expected it to fall upon her like a curse. Arnold, who occupied the chair at the president’s desk inside the doorway of the bank, having resumed this custom of the elder Cutter, had always risen to meet her when she came in. He would conduct her to the chair near his desk and attend personally to her affairs, if it was no more than the cashing of a check. This morning he was at his desk as usual. So was the extra chair, and nobody in it, but beyond a glance and a bow he took no notice of her. She went on to the cashier’s window and presented a check. She was startled to see him glance at it, then step swiftly back to the bookkeeper and make eye sure of her balance before he cashed it. She took the bills, thrust under the wicket and stared about her confused. She had lost prestige here. Why? She wondered. She had spent the money left from her mother’s estate on the house, and a few thousands besides. But she was amply supplied with funds. She had never overdrawn her account.