She was just a child--a tired, frightened child whose eyes had been suddenly opened to the quicksands whereon her feet were set, and, like a child, she turned instinctively and clung to the dear, familiar people from home, who were mercifully at hand to shield her when her whole world had suddenly grown new and strange and very terrible.

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On, on through the night roared the big car, with Garth bending low over the wheel in front, while, in the back-seat Molly huddled forlornly into the curve of Sara's arm.
A few questions had elicited the whole foolish story of Lester Kent's infatuation, and of the steps he had taken to enmesh poor simple-hearted Molly in the toils--first, by lending her money, then, when he found that the loan had scared her, by buying her pictures and surrounding her with an atmosphere of adulation which momentarily blinded her from forming any genuine estimate either of the value of his criticism or of the sincerity of his desire to purchase.
Once the head resting against Sara's shoulder was lifted, and a wistfully incredulous voice asked, very low-- "You are sure he is married, Sara,--_quite sure_ ?" "Quite sure, Molly," came the answer.
And later, as they were nearing home, Molly's hardly-bought philosophy of life revealed itself in the brief comment: "It's very easy to make a fool of oneself." "Probably Mr.Kent has found that out--by this time," replied Sara with a grim flash of humour.
A faint, involuntary chuckle in response premised that ultimately Molly might be able to take a less despondent view of the night's proceedings.
It was between two and three in the morning when at length the travelers climbed stiffly out of the car at the gateway of Sunnyside and made their way up the little tiled path that led to the front door.

The latter opened noiselessly at their approach and Jane, who had evidently been watching for them, stood on the threshold.
Her small, beady eyes were red-rimmed with sleeplessness--and with the slow, difficult tears that now and again had overflowed as hour after hour crawled by, bringing no sign of the wanderers' return--and the shadows of fatigue that had hollowed her weather-beaten cheeks wrung a sympathetic pang from Sara's heart as she realized what those long, inactive hours of helpless anxiety must have meant to the faithful soul.
Jane's glance flew to the drooping, willowy figure clinging to Garth's arm.
"My lamb!.