murmuring it softly until she slept curled on the floor like an incarnation of the Spirit of Christmas Lost.

At work the next day she felt awful. It had been so ever since December began: each day a little bit worse than the day before. As she moved resolutely around the office she reflected again on the inevitability of her heartbreaking decision.

Victoria, lovely Victoria whom she had loved too much; she had caused the making of the decision. Victoria was beautiful and they had loved each other well. But her parents had seen what was happening, and afraid for their innocent daughter had gently forced her back into a proper mold. Malicious gossip had seeped through to Donnie's parents, resulting in an explosive scene that had driven her from their house and out of the town. She had fled into oblivion in the biggest city she could find and was now safely lost among the unquestioning multitudes. That had been in October and still there was no let-up in the rage and despair she carried with her as a result of her flight from smashed love. She was locked up in a black room of hate that seemed to have lost its door to the outside world. To her co-workers she was a veritable bear socially, although her ability as a secretary was clearly above reproach. She was an enigma, to be handled in the gingerly manner usually reserved for rich elderly maiden aunts. To a distant part of Donnie this was funny, but the near part had been drained of feeling. There was nothing left but the bare bones of despair.

Dragging through this last working day before Christmas, Donnie suddenly remembered that she had to pick up her check. "Damn!" she thought. "I have to go through that barn-dance down there." She closed her desk reluctantly and walked quickly down through the noisy halls.

"Merry Christmas!" "Have a nice holiday." "See you next week!" "I've met the most divine man. Wait til you see-

Snatches of excitment caught at her as she took her place in the long and lively line at the pay window. No one tried to talk to her, though; her face was closed, a bulwark against intrusion. Getting up to the window at last, she looked at the gaily festooned office behind the clerk.

"What good is all that junk if you don't feel like Christmas," she thought, looking blacker than ever.

The girl behind the barred window slid an envelope across the counter. "Thanks," Donnie said shortly, turning to go.

"Merry Christmas," she heard, seemingly directed at her.

She turned back to the window. The girl was holding out another envelope, and her inquisitive brown eyes looked directly into Donnie's.

"Don't you want your bonus?" she asked, slightly amused.

"Bonus?" said Donnie, surprised out of her shell. "I just got here. A bonus for two months' work?" Amazement flickered over her face.

The girl smiled, looking suddenly shy. "Everybody gets one this year. Even you."

Donnie's shell closed with a snap. "Thanks," she said again. She turned on her heel and walked rapidly away.

"Snippy witch," she thought with a spurt of hot dislike.

She didn't see the faint cloud that appeared in the eyes of the girl who watched her go.

The afternoon of the 23rd, Donnie rolled out of bed sober, and what she saw gave her a nasty shock.

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