Bit by bit, snatches
of conversation drifted into her mind and then blew out again, leaving
scarcely the shadow of an impression. "They tell me it's going up. I
don't know, but I'll find out to-morrow." "I wouldn't wear one of those
things for a million dollars, and he says--" "Yes, I've arranged to go
unless the strike should be called next week."
The strike? Oh, she had almost forgotten it! She had almost forgotten
the message she had promised to deliver to her father. With a gesture
that appeared to sweep her last remaining illusion behind her, she
started resolutely up the drive to the house. After all, whatever came,
she would not let them think that she was either afraid of life or
disappointed in love. She would not mope, and she would not show the
white feather. On one point she was passionately determined--no man, by
any method known to the drama of sex, was going to break her heart!
She had quickened her steps while she made her resolve; and, a minute
later, she broke into a run when she saw that Corinna's car stood at the
door and that Corinna waited for her in the hall.
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