to her course!

Then, her strength rising with her determination, she glanced back over
her cluttered trail. She had written a letter to Joan--it would be
delivered to-morrow. A black, scorching statement that would leave not a
trace of beauty for the old friendship to rest upon. She had also
written a letter to the firm in Chicago definitely refusing to accept
its offer--but that letter was not yet mailed!

The Burke automobile, like a devastating flood, might at any moment tear
down the hill to the left. With this fear growing in her a strange
perverted sense of justice rose and combated it. She had deliberately
put herself in the way of the flood; she knew all about the risks of
floods, and it seemed knavish to promise and then--leave the field.

"Better an hour of raging against the absence of me," she said,
pitifully, "than years of regretting my presence. He'll hate me a little
sooner, that's all. So--good-bye!" Patricia almost ran inside; left a
hasty, badly written note, and, metaphorically, scrambled over the
disordered path of retreat; she seemed to be racing against that letter
on its way to Joan. She would write later to the man who was drawing
near. Only one thing did Patricia pause to do: It was like driving the
last nail in the old life. She telegraphed to Chicago, accepting the
position of designer!

CHAPTER XVIII

"_Ours, if we be strong._"

Joan had sung herself into an exalted mood. She had floated along on the
wings of music, touching happy memories and tender, nameless yearnings.
Her loved ones seemed crowding about her--Doris, dear, sweet Nancy, and
pretty Pat. They were pressing against her heart and calling to her.

She began to feel a dull ache for them, a growing impulse stirred deep
in her unawakened nature such as always drives the Prodigal unto his
Father! The superficial life of the past year seemed husks indeed. It
was the beautiful music that mattered and that she could have had with
her blessed, safe, loved ones. She need not have left them lonely; she
had been shamelessly selfish. Freedom! What was her freedom? Just a
tugging against the sweetest thing in life--the false against the true!

Joan felt the tears falling down her cheeks while she sang on--and
suddenly it was Patricia who seemed closest to her.

"I will not desert Pat," she actually sang the words into her song
fiercely, resolutely. "Patricia must come into safety with me."

With this vowed to her soul, Jo