diet; but before long she began to take a languid
interest in them. They invariably had to do with outdoor things--stars
and flowers, birds and beasts, and adventures in foreign lands.

"Here's a jim-dandy!" Quin would say enthusiastically. "It's all about
bees. I can't pronounce the guy that wrote it, but, take it from me, he's
got the dope all right."

It was in the long hours of the day, when Eleanor was in the house alone,
that she faced her darkest problems. She had been burnt so badly in her
recent affair that she wanted nothing more to do with fire; yet she was
chilled and forlorn without it. With all her courage she tried to banish
the unworthy image of Harold Phipps, but his melancholy eyes still
exercised their old potent charm, and the memory of his low, insistent
tones still echoed in her ears. She came to the tragic conclusion that
she was the victim of a hopeless infatuation that would follow her to her
grave.

So obsessed was she by the thought of her shattered love affair that she
failed to see that a troubled conscience was equally responsible for her
restlessness. Her life-long training in acquiescence and obedience was at
grips with her desire to live her own life in her own way. She had not
realized until she made the break how much she cared for the family
approval, how dependent she was on the family advice and assistance, how
hideous it was to make people unhappy. Now that she was about to obtain
her freedom, she was afraid of it. Suppose she did not make good? Suppose
she had no talent, after all? Suppose Papa Claude was as visionary about
her career as he was about everything else? At such times a word of
discouragement would have broken her spirit and sent her back to bondage.

"Would you go on with it?" she asked Quin, time and again.

"Sure," said Quin stoutly; "you'll never be satisfied until you try it
out."

"But suppose I'm a failure?"

"Well, then you've got it out of your system, and won't have to go
through life thinking about the big success you'd have been if you'd just
had your chance."

She was not satisfied with his answer, but it had to suffice. While he
never discouraged her, she felt that he shared the opinion of the family
that her ambition was a caprice to be indulged and got rid of, the sooner
the better.

The first day of December brought word from Claude Martel that the
apartment was ready. Eleanor left on twenty-four hours' notice, and it
required the combined