From the elaborately uniformed footman that opened the door for me to the awesome French maid who "did" my hair, I adored them all, and moved as in a dream of enchantment.

Then came Jerry home from a week-end's trip--and I forgot everything else.
I knew from the minute his eyes looked into mine that whatever I had been before, I was now certainly no mere "Oh, some friend of Helen's." I was (so his eyes said) "a deucedly pretty girl, and one well worth cultivating." Whereupon he began at once to do the "cultivating." And just here, perversely enough, I grew indifferent.

Or was it only feigned--not consciously, but unconsciously?
Whatever it was, it did not endure long.

Nothing could have endured, under the circumstances.
Nothing ever endures--with Jerry on the other side.
In less than thirty-six hours I was caught up in the whirlwind of his wooing, and would not have escaped it if I could.
When I went back to college he held my promise that if he could gain the consent of Father and Mother, he might put the engagement ring on my finger.
Back at college, alone in my own room, I drew a long breath, and began to think.

It was the first chance I had had, for even Helen now had become Jerry--by reflection.
The more I thought, the more frightened, dismayed, and despairing I became.