Deep dejection settled down upon her as she walked down Chapel Hill toward home.

The very beauty of the fragrant, starry night hurt her.

She wondered if those some far-off stars, twinkling so remotely aloft, held the knowledge of Tom Gray for which she mournfully yearned.

Why had this dreadful uncertainty intruded itself into the very heart of her Golden Summer?
Had she boasted of her happiness only to see it snatched rudely from her life?
Suppose Tom were never to return?
Suppose even the knowledge of his fate were to be denied her?
Over and over again she had read in the newspapers of the strange disappearances of persons, the mystery of which defied solution.

The horror of her gloomy apprehensions sent a chill to her heart that caused it for an instant to stand still, or so it seemed to her.
"I mustn't think of such frightful things," she breathed.