a chance to talk to Elinor. She couldn't have my letter by
the time she left, and she must still think me horrid."

She rose and stood looking out of the window at the blue expanse above
the housetops, with part of the smile still lingering on her pink lips.
She knew that she had come back, as Bruce called it, and a delightful
sense of relief stole over her.

"I'm so glad, glad," she whispered, clasping her hands tight against her
breast. "I'll have a chance to show them that I'm really sorry for my
silliness. I'll do something, I'll have something ready for them when
they come back that will prove I'm done with sentimental nonsense now
and for always."

She could not think what it should be, but she knew she could find out
and she turned from the window with the old sunny expression on her
face.

"I'll try to be unselfish, even though I am a failure," she said
determinedly. "Bruce never guessed that it might be quite as hard for a
failure to be unselfish as for a successful person. He's always been
successful, thanks to Aunt Louise and his own splendid self."

The memory of her unknown aunt's secret disappointment came to her now
with a throb of understanding love. The dark, brave face over the desk
in the library at Greycroft rose vividly before her, and, as at other
moments of need, courage and determination flowed from the serene eyes
into Patricia's wistful ones.

"I'll bear my troubles, too," she whispered, smiling back at the vision.
"I'll remember that I am your namesake."

CHAPTER XIV

CONSTANCE'S OTHER SIDE

Whatever Patricia did, she did thoroughly.

She had almost a week before Elinor's return, and she set about finding
something to do that should prove her return to herself, and more even
than that, for she wanted tremendously to be better and stronger than
she had ever been.

The haunting sense of failure was with her, but she would not stop to
listen to it. She practiced her exercises with the greatest care, she
went to the concerts for which she had cards, and, remembering Madame
Milano's song at the Filmore evening, she bought the music and learned
the thing by heart. She was afraid this might not be strictly honorable,
since Tancredi had forbidden her to sing songs, but she had such a
strong conviction that she was already a failure that she hoped she
might be pardoned this solace to herself.

"You're looking a lot gayer since you got settled," said Constance
Fellows one afterno