know that her--well, almost hysterical-behavior is in some way connected with you. I was hoping that you might be able to shed some light on the matter so that I could-so that-well, if I understood I might be able to help her in some way. I wouldn't have come to you like this Miss Farrell, believe me, unless I

were desperate. Clare is-I feel that I don't even know her anymore."

Dana felt intensely sorry for the young man. She knew that this was probably the most painful conversation he had ever undertaken and she wanted very much to help. him, but how could she?

"I don't understand it anymore. than you do, Mr. Harrison, she said, not quite truthfully. knew Clare when she was playing professional golf, of course, but I haven't seen her, nor heard from her, since the day she left until the day before yesterday. And we were not enemies when she left, on the contrary, we were on the best of terms."

"This-this overwhelming obsession she has that she must win. It's as though the world would end if she didn't. But it isn't just winning-it's winning over you. So far as Clare is concerned, there is no one else in this tournament but you-and herself." The young man paused and dried his perspiring face with a handkerchief. "I'm explaining it very badly-"

"No. I've been aware of it, Mr. Harrison, but I don't understand it."

"I'm sure you must also be aware of some of the things she's said. Miss Farrell, I apologize for her, if she were herself, she never

would have-"

"Never mind that, it isn't important." Dana wanted the conversation to end; she was becoming as uneasy as Carter Harrison. She made a move to rise but he caught her wrist.

"Miss Farrell. I hope you won't misunderstand my motives but please listen to me. I have a theory about all this and I'd like your opinion. I knew Clare had played professional golf, but she always spoke of it as something of a lark, something she just "took. up" the way other girls take up art or the theatre to be doing something, but never seriously, as a career. Now I wonder if that is true. I have a feeling that perhaps she was very serious about it, that perhaps it was the most important thing in her life, but she gave it up because--with you there she could never hope to become the best in her profession. Clare is a perfectionist. Whatever she does, or has, must be best. So if what I suspect is true, it would explain her deplorable attitude toward you and her hysterical compulsion that she must triumph over you. It is the only way I can explain it."

Dana looked at the young man with new respect. It was quite possible that he was right, at least it was a better explanation than she had been able to think of. But what of it? Either Clare would win tomorrow or she wouldn't (it was almost certain that she wouldn't) and that would be that. Or was this extremely correct and embarrassed young man foolishly about to attempt to arrange a discreet fix?

"You may be right," Dana said warily. "But, so what?"