If there had been any latent doubts in the minds of Margaret's friends as to her force of character they were dispelled in the weeks that followed. She had come back from the hospital wasted in flesh but resolute of soul. Her period of convalescence had been a season of gathering strength for a protracted effort. She would waste no force after this in beating her wings against restraining bars. It almost seemed to Mrs. Pennybacker as she watched her that she had had a new birth. Her whole nature was deepened and broadened. Even her interview with Mr. De Jarnette did not daunt her. "I have been too impatient," she said once. "I can see now how I have injured my cause by injudicious haste. If I had not run off with Philip I might have him now. I know Judge Kirtley thinks that prejudiced my cause, and you know what the Judge said." "Still, it was instinct." "Yes, but I find that this is a thing about which I must use more than instinct. Oh, I am going to try to be very prudent and very patient. I don't want to do anything that will lose me one point." "Margaret," said Mrs. Pennybacker, plainly, "you are losing more than a point in refusing the opportunity that Richard De Jarnette puts in your hands. A whole day instead of an hour is a great gain. If you take my advice you will not only accept that offer but you will thank him personally or by letter for it." "I cannot," Margaret said passionately, the prudence and patience she had felt so sure of cast to the winds. "I will not be indebted to him for one thing. Even for the sake of being with Philip I cannot do it." "You are very foolish. It means more than being with Philip." "How could it possibly help me in any other way?" "There is a principle of human nature involved in it. This is a kindness that Richard De Jarnette meant to do you,--you will acknowledge that?" "Ye-s, but--" "Well, a kindness done always disposes the heart of the person doing it toward the person to whom it is done." "I don't want his heart disposed toward me!" cried the girl. "He is a cruel, despotic man. I hate him and I want to hate him!" Mrs. Pennybacker looked at her over the top of her glasses. "Patience has hardly had her perfect work with you yet, Margaret," she observed, dryly. It was true, as Margaret had said, that she did not want any favors at Mr. De Jarnette's hands. She was angry with him for placing her under obligation in the matter of the carriage: angry at herself for allowing him to do it: and angry and hurt both at Mrs. Pennybacker's censure. They ought to know how she would feel, she told herself, with that isolation of soul which comes to us when our nearest friends fail to understand.