He now knew that she had broken her word.
A sob rose to her lips, then she threw back her head with an air of resolution and, hastily drawing her chair in front of the table, seized her fountain pen, and opening it with an energy that left several ink spots on her white silk blouse, began a letter to her father.

For an hour she continued to write steadily, covering sheet after sheet of paper.

At last she signed her name, and with a mournful sigh folded her letter, slipping it into the envelope without reading it.

Putting on her wraps, she left the house and hurried to the post office, where she sent her letter by special delivery.
But another task still lay before her.

Grace's fine face hardened.