rocking-chair by the side of the bed and closed her eyes. For what
seemed to her a lapse of hours, although in reality it was less than
five minutes, she tried to induce a clever counterfeit of sleep, but
unable longer to deprive herself of another look at her prize she
opened her eyes and gazed at Bob McGraw. To her almost childish delight
he was watching her; and then she noticed his little, cheerful, half-
mocking smile.

She flushed hotly. For the first time she permitted the searchlight of
reason to play on the events of the night, and it occurred to her now
that she had been guilty of a monstrous breach of convention, an
unprecedented, unmaidenly action. She felt like crying now, with the
thought that she had held herself so cheap. Bob McGraw saw the flush
and the pallor that followed it. He read the unspoken thought behind
the changing rush of color.

"Don't feel--that way--about it" he whispered haltingly. "It's unusual
--but then--you and I are unusual, too. There seems to be--perfect--
understanding, and between a--man and a woman that means--perfect
peace. It had to--be. It was preordained--our meeting. What is--your
name?"

Donna again told him.

"Nice--name. Like it."

He closed his eyes and dropped off to sleep like a tired boy.