before the others. "I'll move in tomorrow. Constance
will help me if you're busy," she said, hardly knowing how her words
sounded.

Elinor went home too hurt to reply and too generous to insist on
intruding, while Patricia ran upstairs and shut herself in her room,
where she could hear the murmur of Rosamond and the saleswoman going on
monotonously.

"I won't wait another moment; I'll go straight down and get the key,"
she said, springing up after a bad quarter of an hour, wherein all her
idols had tottered from their pedestals. "I can't stand being cooped up
forever like a mummy!"

Miss Ardsley gave her the key most willingly, even going so far as the
courtyard to point out the windows of the room, which was on the
opposite side of the quadrangle, recommending her to call on Martha or
Christine if there were anything she needed.

Patricia found the room and opened the door with a sense of relief at
finding a shelter for her wounded feelings. She liked the queer shape of
it, with the two odd windows giving toward the sunset, and the angle
where her cosy corner seemed already to have appropriated.

"It's perfectly dear, and I'll love it!" she said passionately. "I'll
move in this very instant, no matter what Rosamond may say."

Rosamond had very little to say, though that little was regretful and
apparently sincere. Patricia suspected her now of insincerity, but that
was not one of Rosamond Merton's faults. Had she feigned more, Patricia
would never have left her. She was sorry for Miss Pat to go, but since
she seemed so eager for it, there was nothing else to be done.

"We'll see just as much of one another," she said, still absently intent
on her purchases. "You'll practice here, of course."

Patricia had forgotten the piano, but she was not given to retreat.

"There's plenty of room for one of my own over there," she said with a
forced smile. "I'll miss hearing you sing, though." She was afraid she
was going to break down, but she didn't. "I'll get my things out now, so
that you can have the little room for cold storage," and she motioned to
the jumble which lay gloriously about.

Rosamond made the best of it. "It will be hard to get anyone to help
now," she said, rising. "It's just tea-hour and the maids will be busy.
I'll see that you have someone at once."

Patricia wanted to protest, but the words stuck in her throat and she
was forced to accept the sturdy charwoman whom Rosamond's telephone
secured.