our friendship with Marian quite as
good as new."

At that juncture Peter might have been kissed, but his neck was very
stiff and his head was very high and his eyes were on a far-distant
hilltop from which at that minute he could not seem to gather any
particular help.

"Would it be your idea," he said, "that by reading these letters I could
gain sufficient knowledge of what has passed to go on with this?"

"Of course you could," said Linda.

Peter reached in his side pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief.
He shook it from its folds and dried her eyes. Then he took her by her
shoulders and set her up straight.

"Now stop this nerve strain and this foolishness," he said tersely.
"You have done a very wonderful thing for me. It is barely possible that
Marian Thorne is not my dream woman, but we can't always have our dreams
in this world, and if I could not have mine, truly and candidly, Linda,
so far as I have lived my life, I would rather have Marian Thorne than
any other woman I have ever met."

Linda clapped her hands in delight.

"Oh, goody goody, Peter!" she cried. "How joyous! Can it be possible
that my bungling is coming out right for Marian and right for you?"

"And right for you, Linda?" inquired Peter lightly.

"Sure, right for me," said Linda eagerly. "Of course it's right for me
when it's right for you and Marian. And since it's not my secret alone
I don't think it would be quite honorable to tell Donald about it. What
hurts Marian's heart or heals it is none of his business. He doesn't
even know her."

"All right then, Linda," said Peter, rising, "give me the letters and
bring me the machine and the paper. Give me the joyous details and tell
me when I am expected to send in my first letter in propria persona?"

"Oh, Peter," cried Linda, beaming on him, "oh, Peter, you are a rock! I
do put my trust in you."

"Then God help me," said Peter, "for whatever happens, your trust in me
shall not be betrayed, Linda."

CHAPTER XXIX. Katy Unburdens Her Mind

Possibly because she wished to eliminate herself from the offices of
Nicholson and Snow for a few days, possibly because her finely attuned
nature felt the call, Marian Thorne boarded a train that carried her to
Los Angeles. She stepped from it at ten o'clock in the morning, and by
the streetcar route made her way to Lilac Valley. When she arrived she
realized that she could not see Linda before, possibly, three in the
afternoon. She ente