CHAPTER X.
PATTY AND CORINNA Patty had come straight to Corinna after a conversation with Stephen.
She needed sympathy, and she had meant to be frank and confiding; but when Benham left them alone in the lovely room, which made her feel as if she had stepped into one of the stained glass windows in the old church she attended, her courage failed, and she forgot all the impulsive words she had learned by heart in the street.
"I am so glad," said Corinna sweetly.

"I went to see you after luncheon to-day, and I was very much disappointed not to find you at home." "That was why I came," answered Patty.

"Your card was there when I got in, and I couldn't bear missing you." "That was right, dear.

It was what I hoped you would do." Turning back to the fire, Corinna stooped and flung a fresh log on the Florentine andirons.

Then, without glancing at the girl, she sat down in one of the deep chairs by the hearth, and motioned invitingly to a place at her side.