Quicksand
pressed together, her head a bit on one side, her small inquisitive eyes boring into the girl before her. And as the train hurled itself frantically toward smoke-infested Newark, she decided to strike.
“Now tell me,” she commanded, “how is it that a nice girl like you can rush off on a wildgoose chase like this at a moment‘s notice. I should think your people‘d object, or‘d make inquiries, or something.”
At that command Helga Crane could not help sliding down her eyes to hide the anger that had risen in them. Was she to be forever explaining her people-or lack of them? But she said courteously enough, even managing a hard little smile: “Well you see, Mrs. Hayes-Rore, I haven‘t any people. There‘s only me, so I can do as I please.”
“Ha!” said Mrs. Hayes-Rore.
Terrific, thought Helga Crane, the power of that sound from the lips of this woman. How, she wondered, had she suc-
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