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That night, after Miss Jinny's trunk had finally been disposed of, and all the gossip of Rockham village and outskirts had been thoroughly aired, and Miss Jinny, tired from her strenuous day, had gone thankfully to bed, Patricia and Elinor were talking over the day's happenings as they brushed their hair in the seclusion of their own room. Patricia retreated to the tree, and Doris stood with one hand clutching the cloak and the light strong on her face. She looked more beautiful than ever to Patricia's friendly eyes, and there was a calm strength in her manner that awed while it comforted her. All consciousness of herself was gone, and, Patricia felt, gone forever, and in its place a quiet courage that spoke of conquered pride and vanity and selfishness. Doris Leighton had found herself. "'We!'" echoed Patricia. "You mean how you get along. I shan't count at all. I may have to give up when I actually get at it." Then with a swift change of spirit she added: "All the same, if I couldn't do better than some of those smudgy celebrities in the modeling room were doing, I'd feel pretty sorry for myself. Such forlorn, lop-sided caricatures of human beings I never saw. I don't see how they can do them.".
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After she had said good-bye and they Were waiting at the curator's desk, Elinor spoke musingly. "I heard Mrs. Dallas say that Dido's people came from Ashantee," soliloquized Maurice, "so I have no doubt she can work the infernal thing. Perhaps she knows enough to fill the bag with fresh poison. If she did so, I wouldn't trust myself near her. She would be sure to experiment on me." Elinor thanked her with pretty gratitude. "Bad news comes quickly enough in the telling," said the doctor, judicially, "so I shall say nothing more. Life in death is your fate, Mr. Alymer; unless," he added, with a swift and penetrating glance, "you choose to avert the calamity.".
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