Page:Stella Dallas, a novel (IA stelladallasnove00prou).pdf/302

292 Occasionally the troubled, hurt look would steal across her features. And at such times Helen knew that Laurel was doubting again, suffering again, longing to be brought face to face with actual proof of her mother's high motive. But it was better that the doubts should remain than that her mother's act of self-abnegation should be robbed of its fruit. Helen pulled down the window-shade and went downstairs.

It was not until she was in her own room with her door closed, with the window draperies drawn close, seated before her dressing-table brushing her shining hair, that she thought about the alimony. Stephen had felt just as she had when she first broached the subject to him, that of course Laurel's mother must live as she was accustomed to live whatever had been the terms of the divorce. So far, however, Stephen had failed to establish communication of any sort with Stella. She had left her Boston apartment as a bird a nest, and the route she had taken was as trackless, as scentless as the bird's through the air.

She had left no trace of any kind, anywhere—not even with her lawyer, not even with her bank from which she had withdrawn her account. Since her marriage to Alfred Munn not a single check of Stephen's had been cashed by her. Not a single check had even been received by her. They were returned to Stephen unopened, with the recurring announcement "Not known" in the corner of the envelope.

Helen looked into eyes that were troubled as she gazed into the mirror before her. "It might