him that she was going to marry Peter
Rolls, whom she had loved before she ever saw her poor Ursus (of
course she had loved Peter always! that was why it had hurt her so
cruelly to believe Ena) the dear big fellow, pitying Sadie's weakness,
would turn to his "little old chum" for comfort.

Oh, yes, everything would come right! warbled the disobedient spirit
singing on the heights. Then the common sense and pride in Win would
pluck the spirit's robe, and presto! another picture would dissolve
into gray cloud.

Going out to luncheon (ice-cream soda and a sponge cake) somehow
broke the radiant charm. Common sense put the singing spirit
relentlessly into its proper place, where, discouraged, it sang no
more. Ugly memories of last night's danger and humiliation crowded
back into the brain no longer irradiated by Peter's presence. Win felt
dully that none of the glorious fancies of the morning could ever come
true, though she still hoped that her words might have some living
influence upon the future of the Hands.

Even if Peter really and truly wanted to marry her (which seemed
incredible), and his sister misjudged him (also well-nigh incredible),
Ena Rolls and Ena Rolls's father would bar the way to any such
happiness as the magic pictures had shown. It would be hateful to
force herself upon a snobbish family who despised her and let her see
that she was unwelcome.

The girl was suddenly surprised because she hadn't seen, the moment
Peter's back was turned (even if not before), that the one
self-respecting thing was to give up her place at the Hands. It would
be decent and rather noble to disappear as she had disappeared before,
so that Peter, when he came again (as he surely would), should find
her gone.

This thought made so gloomy a picture in contrast with the forbidden
bright ones, that Win was nearer tears than she had been in the
hospital room.

"Laugh--laugh--if you laugh like a hyena!" she was saying to herself
between half-past four and five, when other girls were thinking of the
nice things they would do when they got home.

Win envied them. She wished the things that satisfied them could
satisfy her. Yet, no, she did not wish that. Divine dissatisfaction
was better. She must keep that conviction before her through years
which might otherwise be gray. For now she was quite sure that nothing
beautiful, nothing glorious, nothing even exciting, could ever happen
to her. And it was at this very moment that