cares. But"--in a studiously light voice that hid the
quivering pain at her heart--"a rising artist has to consider his art.
He can't hamper himself by marriage with an impecunious musician who
isn't able to pull wires and help him on. 'He travels the fastest who
travels alone.' You know it. And Maryon Rooke knows it. I suppose it's
true."

She got up from her chair and came and stood beside Penelope.

"We won't talk of this again, Penny. What one wants is a 'far Moon' and
I'd forgotten the width of the world which always seems to lie between.
My 'shining ship' has foundered. That's all."

CHAPTER II

THE GOOD SAMARITAN

Penelope tapped sharply at Nan's bedroom door.

"Nan, are you ready? Your taxi's waiting outside."

"Ticking tuppences away like the very dickens, too!" returned Nan,
emerging from her room dressed for a journey.

It was a week or two later and in response to a wire--and as the result
of a good deal of persuasion on the part of Penelope--Nan had accepted an
engagement to play at a big charity concert in Exeter. Lady Chatterton,
the organiser of the concert, had offered to put her up for the couple of
nights involved, and Nan was now hurrying to catch the Paddington
West-country train.

"I've induced the taxi-driver to come up and carry down your baggage,"
pursued Penelope. "You'll have to look fairly sharp if you're to catch
the one-fifty."

"I _must_ catch it," declared Nan. "Why, the Chattertons are fourteen
miles from Abbencombe Station and it would be simply ghastly if they sent
all that way to meet me--and there _was_ no me! Besides, there's a
rehearsal fixed for ten o'clock to-morrow morning."

While she spoke, the two girls were making their way down the circular
flight of stone steps--since the lift was temporarily out of
order--preceded by the driver grumblingly carrying Nan's suit-case and
hat-box. A minute or two later the taxi emitted a grunt from somewhere
within the depths of its being and Nan was off, with Penelope's cheery
"Good luck!" ringing in her ears.

She sat back against the cushions and gasped a sigh of relief. She had
run it rather close, but now, glancing down at her wrist-watch, she
realised that, failing a block in the traffic, she would catch her train
fairly easily.

It was after they had entered the Park that the first contre-temps
occurred. The taxi jibbed and came abruptly to a standstill. Nan let
down the window and leaned out.