isted to
evidence the truth of the things she said, came crowding in upon the
girl's mind. Instead of helping Aaron King with his work, instead of truly
enjoying life with him, as she had thought, her friendship was to him a
menace, a danger. She had believed--and the belief had brought her a
strange happiness--that he had cared for her companionship. He had cared
only to use her for his pictures--as he used his brushes. He had played
with her--as she had seen him toy idly with a brush, while thinking over
his work. He would throw her aside, when she had served his purpose, as
she had seen him throw a worn-out brush aside.

The woman who was still a child could not blame the artist--she was too
loyal to what she had thought was their friendship; she was too unselfish
in her yet unrecognized love for her chosen mate. No, she could not blame
him--only--only--she wished--oh how she wished--that she had understood.
It would not have hurt so, perhaps, if she had understood.

In all the cruel tangle of her emotions, in all her confused and
bewildering thoughts, in all her suffering one thing was clear; she must
get away from the world that could see only evil--she must go at once.
Conrad Lagrange and Aaron King might come at any moment. She could not
face them; now that she knew. She wished Myra was home. But she would
leave a little note and Myra--dear Myra with her disfigured face--would
understand.

Quickly, the girl wrote her letter. Hurriedly, she dressed in her mountain
costume. Still acting under her blind impulse to escape, she made no
explanations to the neighbors, when she went for the horse. In her desire
to avoid coming face to face with any one, she even chose the more
unfrequented streets through the orange groves. In her humiliation and
shame, she wished for the kindly darkness of the night. Not until she had
left the city far behind, and, in the soft dusk, drew near the mouth of
the canyon, did she regain some measure of her self-control.

As she was overtaking the Power Company's team and wagon of supplies, she
turned in her saddle, for the first time, to look back. A mile away, on
the road, she could see a cloud of dust and a dark, moving spot which she
knew to be an automobile. One of the Company machines, she thought; and
drew a breath of relief that Fairlands was so far away.

It was quite dark as she entered the canyon; but, as she drew near, she
could see against the sky, those great gates, opening