The Marquis’ payment, along with Ann’s gift, allowed me to book round-trip passage to New York, although I settled for a second-class ticket, not knowing how much I would need for lodgings and train tickets, once back in the States. I crossed the Atlantic on the French Line’s speedy Péreire, in an inside cabin so tiny, my trunk filled the space next to the berth. The water closet was down the hall. Still, it was better than steerage, which I would have had to endure if my friends had not helped me. I occupied myself picturing the stops on the tour I’d planned—New York City, a visit to my aunties at the Toscarora reservation, Chicago, and San Francisco. In just under four weeks, we reached America.