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 by Dr. Baird to accept all friendly advances made to her half-way. More than half-way. To make friendly advances herself. In fact, it was by such coeperation, Dr. Baird told her, that her cure (her self-cure—for it must he self-cure) could be most speedily accomplished.

Moreover, Dr. Baird had instructed her to confide her personal affairs in no one. It was one of Dr. Baird's rules that his patients refrain from discussing their difficulties with each other—or with any of the guests at the hotel. Sheilah had complied. Her corner room with private balcony and bath, overlooking the purple shadows of the valley, was not in keeping with her working-woman's hands, cracked and scarred, bearing traces of vegetable-knives and recent contact with dish-water. But according to Dr. Baird's orders she persistently applied glycerine and rose-water every night, and made no explanations.

She raised her hands now against the clouds, and gazed at them smiling. Not only was she better inside, not only was her soul slowly healing, but her hands—her hands too!

And she had been at Avidon's scarcely three weeks! Perhaps it was all a dream, from which she would wake up pretty soon. And the billowy clouds