for Nancy's wedding--she saw the small altar in the Chapel
flower-decked; they must have some music, perhaps Joan would sing one of
her lovely, quaint songs--and then Doris slept while the sun lay on her
peaceful face and the sound of the busy river soothed her.

* * * * *

It was like Joan to do exactly what she did.

After two deplorable days in the little hotel--days devoted to
collecting her belongings and eating and sleeping--she suddenly found
herself so strong that she sent the telegram to The Gap.

Having sent it, she meant to prepare carefully against shock at her
appearance by buying a rather giddy hat and coat to offset her short
hair and thin body. Cameron had insisted, at the last, that she reserve
her cash for emergencies and repay him later.

Joan accepted this solution, and having arrayed herself frivolously she
bought Cuff a most remarkable collar which embarrassed the dog
considerably. In all the changing events of Cuff's life a collar had not
figured, and it was harder to adjust himself to it than to foots of beds
and meals served on plates. However, Cuff rose to the emergency and bore
himself with credit.

Twice Cameron came to the hotel; twice he took Joan for a drive--"It
will help you get on your feet," he explained.

"I--I don't quite see how," she faltered and, as they were driving where
once she and Raymond had driven, her eyes were tear-filled. The old,
dangerous, foolish past had a most depressing effect upon her.

At Cameron's second attempt to put her on her feet he succeeded, for
when he paid his third call, a quaint little note greeted him at the
office:

Thank you--thank you for all that you have done. I will explain
everything soon, in the meantime, morally and physically, I am
wobbling home.

Cameron's jaw set as he read.

"I'll wait," was what he inwardly swore. And at that moment he was
conscious that, for the first time in his career, a woman had got into
his system!

When Joan reached Stone Hedgeton she feared that she and Cuff would have
to overcome many obstacles before they reached The Gap, for no one was
willing to travel the roads.

"There is holes in the river road mighty nigh a yard deep," one man
confided. "I ain't going to risk my hoss, nor my mule, nuther!"

It was the mail man who, at last, solved the problem. He had a small car
whose appearance was disreputable but whose record was marvellous.

"If you-all,"