CHAPTER XVII.
"THE KEYS OF HEAVEN" Nan awoke the next morning to find the sunlight pouring into her room.
Outside, the notes of a bird's song lilted very sweetly on the air, while the creamy head of a rose tapped now and again at the window as though bidding her come out and share in the glory of the summer's day.

She had slept far into the morning--the deep, dreamless slumber of utter mental and physical exhaustion.

And now, waking, she stared about her bewilderedly, unable at first to recall where she was or what had happened.
But that blessed lack of realisation did not last for long.

Almost immediately the recollection of all that had occurred yesterday rushed over her with stunning force, and the sunlight, the bird song, and that futile rose tapping softly there against the window-pane, seemed stupidly incongruous.
Nan felt she almost hated them.

Only a few hours before she had said good-bye to the man she loved.