pretty soon, and laugh about it, and tell it at the
breakfast table.

Well, one does not seek a divorce from a husband who
is insane. The busy men on the great paper were very
kind. They would take me back on the staff. Did I think
that I still could write those amusing little human
interest stories? Funny ones, you know, with a punch in
'em.

Oh, plenty of good stories left in me yet, I assured
them. They must remember that I was only twenty-one,
after all, and at twenty-one one does not lose the sense
of humor.

And so I went back to my old desk, and wrote bright,
chatty letters home to Norah, and ground out very funny
stories with a punch in 'em, that the husband in the
insane asylum might be kept in comforts. With both hands
I hung on like grim death to that saving sense of humor,
resolved to make something of that miserable mess which
was my life--to make something of it yet. And now--

At this point in my musings there was an end
of the low-voiced conversation in the hall. Sis tiptoed
in and looked her disapproval at finding me sleepless.

"Dawn, old girlie, this will never do. Shut your
eyes now, like a good child, and go to sleep. Guess what
that great brute of a doctor said! I may take you home