iii

There was a long silence. It was not that Patricia was asleep, although she was so tired. She was malingering. A fond mother would have been misled. She almost, in that rôle, convinced herself. But she knew that Lucy would never be a willing dupe, and something about Lucy's wholly unsentimental attitude towards ill-health alarmed Patricia. It was not, however, until she was stung by a bitter thought that she rolled back the bedclothes and paddled her bare feet upon the floor.

"I'm just like Amy, with Jack Penton!" was the thought. "How horrible!"

That thought stayed with Patricia during the whole of her bathing and washing. She was appalled by it. No criticism could have been more withering.

"But Harry would never be like Jack!" she exclaimed, with certainty. "He'd never stay on the chance that I'd change my mind. With him it's one thing or the other. I wonder...."

It was a possibility. Perhaps it was the solution. Patricia felt brighter. Of course! Why had she not thought of it before? She would say to Harry, and it would be an extremely reasonable speech: "Harry, I do think I love you. But I want to make sure. Can we go on as we are—just being friends—for the present?" "Of course, old girl," Harry would say. "I don't want to hurry you, if you're not sure. Just try me for a little while." Patricia laughed, as she imagined him saying that. Harry would laugh, too. She would.... Her eyes sparkled. She became demure.

Suddenly, in her imagining, Harry turned sharply to her. "By the way," he said. "How long am I to wait?" Patricia answered very quickly. "Well, I couldn't marry you until I got a trousseau, could I?"

She had awakened in a very different state of mind from that in which she had slept. Far from the danger, she had become quite bold. It seemed at this moment as though she had almost made up her mind.

"But I haven't ... really," said Patricia. "I'm only brave in the morning, because the danger isn't urgent." It was true. She had floated back into her dream of love. The reality no longer disturbed her. Slowly her mind returned to the bitter thought which had driven her out of bed. Supposing Harry said: "Now or never!" What then? Immediately her courage oozed away. She shook her head, and became very grave. Even in her drowsy state of unreality she still knew that she must play the game. "I can't give him up!" she thought. Then she laughed without glee. "I'm like Amy. I know it. Why am I like her? Are all girls like her? Impossible! I shall go and see Amy. It'll be good for me. I'll go this very afternoon!"