at night in her room, took off the rosy dress
and laid it on her bed. Then, enveloped in her long white motor coat,
she went out on her porch, and curled up in one of the big chairs.
Across the harbor the lights were out at the yacht club. Between the
Neck and the main shore little starlike points showed where the lanterns
were swung on the sleeping boats. It was long after midnight, and the
cold morning mists were already coming in.

But she could not sleep. She had so many wonderful things to think of. A
few weeks ago she had been a little lonely child with no one who cared
whether she lived or died--now she was rich in love and friendship.

She turned the ring on her finger. How strange it seemed to think that
in a few short months she would be--married. That she would belong to
Anthony until death should part them.

Her breath came quickly. She stood up, slim and white in her long coat.
Then suddenly she slipped to her knees.

"Oh, please, please," she prayed, with her face upturned to the waning
stars, "make me worthy of his love. Make me worthy to be his wife."

CHAPTER XII

YOUTH AND BEAUTY

It was two days after the dance at the yacht club that Diana came home.
She arrived late and unexpectedly. Bettina had gone to bed, and the only
light which burned to welcome her was Sophie's, on the third floor.

Diana paid her cabman, and set her key in the lock, to be welcomed by
Peter Pan's purring note as she opened the door.

She stooped and picked up the big cat. "Dear Peter," she whispered.

Peter, held against her heart, sang his little song of content, and,
standing for a moment in the darkness, Diana fought for self-control
before she went up to Sophie's room.

Mrs. Martens, wrapped in her gray kimono, was writing letters. She
looked up with a glad cry as Diana entered.

"Why, Diana," she said, "you darling!"

"I didn't telegraph," Diana said, as she kissed her friend, "for there
wasn't any use. I had my key, and I knew I could get a cab----"

"You're tired, dearest-dear." Sophie's worried eyes noted the weariness
of gesture and tone, and the shadows under Diana's eyes as she untied
her veil and took off her hat.

"Yes, I'm tired, dead tired." Diana dropped into a chair, and laid her
head against the cushioned back.

Sophie bent over her. "You're not comfortable," she said; "come on down
to your room and take a hot bath, and I'll heat a cup of milk, and then
you can rest all warm and comf