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 CHAPTER

XXV

Noruine irked Pat more than being awakened tod early. Consequently Katie’s knock upon her door, at the third discreet repetition, elicited a plaintive growl of protest. “Oh, go away!” ‘Special delivery letter for you, Miss Pat.” ‘Shove it under the door and don’t bother me.” She flumped over in bed, burrowing her face-among the pillows like an annoyed baby. Very much did Pat wish to sleep. Until long after midnight she had lain awake, thinking excitedly. To be roused out of the profound oblivion which she had finally achieved, thus untimely, was a little too much. But that letter got between her and her rest. From Cary Scott, of course. She visualised the oblong blue stamp, insistent, intrusive, “immediate.” Oh, well! Up she jumped, caught the envelope from the floor, and dived back into bed to read it. It was mainly repetition of what he had said last night when they parted: nothing but the absolute necessity of going would have taken him away from her at such a time; he would be back in a few days at the latest; she must wait until then; must not let herself worry, must not make herself unhappy, must trust in him. It ended, “I love you, Pat.” Through the quiet directness of the wording Pat felt the stress of an overwhelming emotion. It was not so much worry or unhappiness that filled Pat’s thoughts as a confused and colourful bewilderment, a sense of unreality. There intervened a reflection from her mis247