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received her first letter from Felix in less than two weeks. It was postmarked Wallbridge.

'I've gotten a job in the bank here in your city,' it said. 'They say I can work up to almost anything, if I try, and I'm going to try. You know why, I guess. I got it through Mr. Spaulding at the church. I saw you at church last Sunday, but you didn't see me. Will you be at church next Sunday?'

'I'm sorry. I shan't be at church next Sunday,' Sheilah wrote back. Felix's letter had come two days before she was sailing for a second trip to Europe, this time with two boarding-school friends. 'But I'll see you when I come back in the fall,' her pen went on kindly. At least she could be kind. 'I hope you'll get on well at the bank, Felix. I wish you all sorts of good luck.'

That brief little note of Sheilah's became to Felix like a prayer, which he used to read at night for inspiration. He knew it by heart at the end of the first week, but he always referred to the written page, for he liked seeing with his own eyes the actual words Sheilah had written to him, especially his own name, in her handwriting, alone like that, in the middle of