If Wollaston did not tell, and Gladys did not tell, and she did not tell, it might all come right somehow in the end.
She looked at the crescent of the moon, and the great depth of light of the star, and her own affairs seemed to quiet her with their very littleness.

What was little Maria Edgham and her ridiculous and tragic matrimonial tangle compared with the eternal light of those strange celestial things yonder?
She would pass, and they would remain.

She became comforted.

She even reflected that she was hungry.
She had not obeyed her father's injunction, and had eaten very little luncheon.

She thought with pleasure of the good dinner which would be awaiting her.