keep from joining in the applause of the spectators on the tee. She smiled benevolently at Dana, as though in some strange way, her faith had been restored. And she was pleased by the sudden surge of warmth she felt as Dana, after a moment of startled hesitation, smiled in return.

As they went into fifteen, Clare still held her 2-stroke edge but only because of fantastic luck-the sinking of an approach shot on eleven and holing out a 30foot putt on fourteen. While Dana was still fighting grimly every inch of the way in sharp contrast to her usual stoic, effortless game, she had settled down now, and her consummate skill was beginning to tell.

They were approaching the fifteenth tee when there was a sudden stir in the gallery. Excited voices rose until the sound from the milling throng was a muffled roar. Then a great many spectators suddenly deserted the EmersonFarrell twosome and streamed back toward the tenth tee.

Clare saw Dana's caddy talking to her excitedly, saw Dana's look of surprise and then her sudden, heart-tugging smile. She summoned her own caddy.

"What in the hell is going on?" she asked sharply.

"That Kovac kid you played with yesterday," he said, "she's burnin' up the course. Just heard she turned in a 32 on the front nine, with an eagle 3 on nine."

"A 32! My God-that isn't possible!"

"That's the word."

Clare chewed at her lower lip nervously. "She'll fall off.

Those kids always do."

"She didn't yesterday," the caddy reminded her drily, "and she'd have to drop dead not to take this one. The rest of you dames are playing like you was in a Sunday afternoon mixed foursome." "But she can't!" Clare whispered tensely. "She just can't!"

To win over Dana Farrell only to be beaten by an unknown Polish kid from Dubuque would be an irony of fate too cruel to be endured. If she must be beaten (and for the first time she consciously admitted that she might be) let it be by Dana Farrell. Dana, she entreated silently, don't let this happen! I need you now, Dana, maybe I have always -her thoughts faltered, but she pushed them forward with a sudden cold, pitiless honesty. Yes, Dana, I've always needed you. You were my idol-not my nemesis. I only made you that to mask my own inferiority. You were all I ever hoped to be and knew in my heart that I never could be, but I could not bear to admit it. And nothing has changed, Dana, except my blindness. Don't let me down now-I couldn't bear it if you let me down now!

As soon as Dana heard the news of Torchy's unbelievable feat, her nervousness disappeared. She forgot about Clare Emerson and her problems, she forgot her own miserable showing, she forgot everything but the immediate shot to be played. The familiar and comforting wall of concentration closed about her again and she began to play golf. She birdied the next two holes with no effort at all.