It was a new kind of laughter, and with it I heard John Graham's voice.

I was thinking only of the sea--to get away on the sea.

A taxi took me to my bank, and I drew money.

I went to the wharves, intent only on boarding a ship, any ship, and it seemed to me that Uncle Peter was leading me; and we came to a great ship that was leaving for Alaska--and you know--what happened then--Alan Holt." With a sob she bowed her face in her hands, but only an instant it was there, and when she looked at Alan again, there were no tears in her eyes, but a soft glory of pride and exultation.
"I am clean of John Graham," she cried.

"_Clean!_" He stood twisting his hands, twisting them in a helpless, futile sort of way, and it was he, and not the girl, who felt like bowing his head that the tears might come unseen.