Page:Stella Dallas, a novel (IA stelladallasnove00prou).pdf/190

180 own bed at home, instead of on the train speeding East. (Stephen was less given to contemplation than Helen.) But every time a stop, or jolt, or sudden application of brakes shook him awake, he was conscious of Helen Dane. "By George, she's a pretty girl"—"I'll write to her to-morrow"—"I'll order her some flowers as soon as I reach Boston"—"I'm going to see something more of that girl. She has beautiful eyes—and a brain too"—"I don't know when I've met such a girl"—"I wonder if she'll want to settle down in Reddington."

The world took on a new interest and significance for Helen after that. The sound of the mailman's whistle would often make her heart jump up in the region of her throat. The sight of a certain shaped envelope on the hall table, sometimes bearing two and three stamps in its corner, would fill her with such a choking wave of emotion that she couldn't answer questions coherently until she had closed herself in her room and had devoured the letter's contents. And why not? Wasn't it written by the man she was going to marry (though he might not yet be aware of it), and didn't it discuss thrilling things about religion and philosophy, and art and music, and all sorts of foundation-stones of a life together?

They didn't refer to that life together in their letters, not directly. They didn't refer to it at Easter-time when the discussions continued by the rose-shaded lamp. Of course not. Stephen's education was not finished yet. He had a whole year and a half at the law school still before he could even start upon a self-supporting career. But Helen was not