It was the first time she had been down town since the day before Lorraine's accident--and she very quickly noticed the difference in the attitude of many that she knew and met. There was a more manifest cordiality, slight in some cases, more open in others, but unmistakable nevertheless. More people looked at her in a friendly way, and would have spoken had she given them the chance. But _she_ never saw them, or looked right through them--depending upon whether hitherto they had been negative or positive in their hostility. From all those who had spoken heretofore, she accepted the additional smile or word of greeting--from all those with whom it was an initial effort she declined the overtures. Mrs. Postlewaite passed down the aisle just as Stephanie was turning away from the glove counter, and the _grande dame_ relaxed sufficiently to glance at her in a personal way and to give her the chance to return the glance--her manner even indicating that, if Stephanie were brave enough to speak, she might condescend to acknowledge it with the faintest nod. It was plainly a look of permission--but Stephanie never looked; though taking due care to let Mrs. Postlewaite know that she saw. And the ancient lady's face congealed into impassivity--and they went their respective ways. She knew, of course, what had caused the change. It had become known that she had visited her husband at his request--and they assumed a reconciliation was likely to follow. She finished her shopping and went out to her car--to find it with a deflated tire and the driver just beginning the repair. She glanced at the clock on the dash. It was after one. She was much later than she thought. "Is that the correct time?" she asked the man. "Yes, Mrs. Lorraine!" said he, touching his cap but without raising his eyes from the wheel. It would be too late to go home for luncheon, by the time the repair was made, so she turned back into the department store and took the elevator to the dining room on the top floor. The place was crowded--the head waiter and the captains at the far end of the room, as usual. There was no empty table in sight, and Stephanie paused at the door. Instantly the eyes of a hundred women focussed on her. At the same time Marcia Emerson, sitting some distance down the room, saw her and getting up hastily came forward. "Won't you join me at my table, Mrs. Lorraine?" she asked. "It's for two and I'm alone." It so happened that Stephanie, since her return, had not encountered Miss Emerson, therefore there could be no memory of glances withheld nor of greetings lacking. It was very polite in her and she could not well refuse, though she would have been better satisfied had Marcia not done it. "I shall be glad to join you--you're very kind," she answered. An audible buzz went up as they passed down the aisle to their table.