tter dropped again on Doris's lap. Yes, Doris Fletcher did
understand. She saw Joan, not as she was, a tall young creature
radiantly facing life, but as a tired little child in this very room
stepping' defeated from the fountain, because she could not make her
desires come true! She was listening to the old plaint: "I have used the
old games--I want something new!"

Yes, Doris understood, and sitting alone, she vowed that Joan should not
be defrauded of her own, by misdirected love, prejudice, or luxury.

"She shall have her chance!"

Then it was that something happened. Things--stopped!

For a moment Doris was conscious of making an effort to set them going
again. She glanced at the clock--that had stopped! The fountain no
longer played; nor did the birds sing!

A black silence presently engulfed the whole world. At last Doris opened
her eyes--or had they been open during the eternity when nothing had
occurred? She glanced at the clock, a trivial thing against the carving
of the wall, but upon whose face Truth sat faithfully. Two hours had
passed since she had noticed the clock before!

"But--I have been thinking a long time, planning for the children;
reading the letter----" Doris sought to establish a normal state of
affairs--she saw the letter lying at her feet, but did not bend to pick
it up.

"Only a faint. But I have never fainted before!" she thought on.

She was not frightened, not even excited. She felt as if she had simply
come upon something that she had always known was on the road ahead
awaiting her. She had come upon it sooner than she had expected to, that
was all. She did not want to pass into the silence again if she could
help it, so she lay back in the chair quietly, guardedly, and waited.

Then she heard steps. Outside the family only one person came
unannounced to the sunken room and gladly, thankfully, Doris turned her
eyes and met David Martin's as he paused at the doorway above.

Martin had himself in control before Doris noticed the fear in his eyes.
He came slowly to her, sat down beside her and, while simply taking her
hand in greeting, let his trained touch fall upon her pulse. It told him
the dread secret, but it did not shatter his calm--he even smiled into
the pale face and said lightly:

"Well, what have you been trying to do?"

Doris told him, without emotion, what had occurred. She did not remove
her hand from his--his touch comforted her; held her to the things she
knew