summon up the burning hatred which had been her motivating force. Now she felt only annoyance and disappointment, as though Dana had, in some unexplainable way, let her down. And there was still another emotion, suppressed as yet, but struggling for release, that was dangerously close to sympathy for the foundering champion.

Never, in all their years. together in the pros, had she seen the great Dana Farrell stripped of her poise, unprotected by that impenetrable barrier of remote concentration, vulnerable and torn by the same emotions and pressures and irritations that beset them all. And from the beginning, the desire to see her so, to see her pulled down to the level of all the rest of them, had been a burning, twisting ache that never ceased. It had been this constant, frustrated, gnawing passion, grown at last to unbearable proportions, that had driven her out of the pros. It had become so all-consuming that in the end it had ruined her own game, and she had no choice but to quit.

And now it had happened. Best of all, it had happened here, just as it had so many times in her dreams. Right here in her own home town, before all these people who had never really believed that she could have stayed in the pros if she'd wished, who had never really believed that she was capable of beating the great Dana Farrell, who had to be shown before life in this place or any other place-would be bearable.

And now they were being shown. The very thing for which she had yearned and hoped and prayed and

one

tortured herself almost to the brink of madness to bring about had finally happened. Where, then, was the exultation-the sleek and glowing satisfaction-the end of the fierce, aching frustration, of which she had dreamed? Why, then, this maddening sense of disappointment-this weird feeling of being cheated-this empty throb of sadness and loss?

Thoroughly confused and disgusted with herself, Clare stepped up to the tee and drove. It was a poor drive; of the weak, ineffectual variety generally termed "ladylike" by the club members.

As she waited for Dana to take her stance, the steaming heat seemed suddenly to close in on her. For a moment she felt sick and faint and it was very difficult to breathe. She fought the vertigo with the sheer force of her will. It seemed a very long time before it passed but when it was over she realized that not more than a few seconds had elapsed, for Dana was just now taking her place on the tee. To her utter astonishment, Clare found herself hoping wildly that Dana would blast one of those 300 yard screamers for which she was so famous.

Dana obliged. With that matchless form which was a little like music in motion, she put every ounce of the power in her strong body behind the drive. With a report like a pistol shot the ball took off low and began to climb, heading straight for the distant green as though it had eyes. It was still climbing when it passed the 200 yard marker.

Clare felt a thrill of pure joy pierce her like an arrow and she had to restrain herself to

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