Then the spasm passed, and braver thoughts reasserted themselves.

Fortner's inadvertent words of praise of Harry Glen were recalled, and began glowing like pots of incense to sweeten and purify the choking vapors in her imagination.
Could it be that Harry had really retrieved himself?
He had certainly gained the not-easily-won admiration of this brave man, and it had all been to render himself worthy of her! There was rapture in the thought.
Then her own heroic aspirations welled up again, bringing intoxication at the prospect of ending the distasteful routine of nursing, by taking an active part in what would be a grand event of history.

Fears and misgivings vanished like the mists of the morning.

She thought only of how to accomplish her mission.
She lighted a candle and wrote four letters--one to her mother, one to Dr.Denslow, one to Harry Glen in care of his mother, and one to the Hospital Steward, asking him to mail the letters in case he did not receive any contrary request from her before the 10th of January.
She was too excited to sleep in the early part of the night, and busied her waking hours in packing her clothing and books, and maturing her plans.
She had much concern about her wardrobe.

Never in all the days of her village belleship had she been so anxious to be well-dressed as now, when about to embark upon the greatest act of her life.