that, and the thought saddened her. Maybe you'll make it, Torchy, she thought, I'll be very surprised if you don't. But it won't be the way you think it will be now. What is it they say "Uneasy rests the head that wears the crown"? That crown is a fine thing to share, Torchy-to win and lose and fight for and win and lose again-but it is a terrible thing to own. Because when it is yours for the taking, it begins to own YOU. It sets you apart in a lonely place, and there you must stay, because you can't give it back, Torchy. It must be taken from you and you will fight to the death to keep it, even though you have long since come to hate it. It glitters, Torchy, and it must be very valuable because it costs a very great deal-but it is very heavy.

Dana turned off the water. Mingled with the steam, she could smell the sharp, sweet scent of the spilled cologne.

Toni was waiting for her in the bar, she knew, but Dana took the doorway that led to the "patio" of the Riverdale Country Club and paused in the shadow of a potted palm to light a cigarette. The patio was deserted, for the heat was stifling and everyone was drawn irresistibly to the airconditioned coolness inside.

Dana Farrell looked very clean and fine in fawn-colored gabardine slacks, white silk shirt with the cuffs turned back at the strong wrists, crisp, short-cropped dark hair brushed damp and smooth. She was still bone-tired but the sharp, aching edge of fatigue had been washed away, and most of the tension had ebbed from her body.

She smoked slowly, her mind as nearly blank as she could make

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it, savoring this moment of solitude before joining the noisy crush in the bar. She did not hear the young man approach and his quiet voice startled her. "Miss Farrell?"

"Yes?"

"My name is Carter Harrison. I wonder if I might speak to you for a moment."

Carter Harrison. The name was vaguely familiar, but-. Yes, of course. The nice, family-approved guy with lots of money and an important name to whom Clare Emerson was engaged. Now, why in the world should he wish to speak to her?

She followed him to a wroughtiron table under a gaily striped umbrella and they sat down. She waited for him to speak but he was silent for a long time, obviously ill at ease and obviously unaccustomed to being ill at ease.

He lit a cigarette nervously and finally spoke. "I hardly know how to begin-but I felt I had to'

Dana wanted to help him. He was very good looking without being quite handsome. Dark, wavy hair, nice eyes and teeth, features a little too fine, perhaps. His sports jacket and slacks were beautifully tailored and he had a great deal of that indefinable quality called breeding.

"Is it about Clare?" she asked.

"Yes. Since you know that, you must know that we are engaged to be married. She-I'm worried about Clare. Since this tournament began-before that-since it was conceived--she has been behaving very strangely-and very badly, I might add. I don't know what it is all about, but I do

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