She could weigh and estimate things now, and this she did bravely, justly. Like Northrup in Larry's cabin the night before, she became more a sensitive plate upon which pictures flashed, than a personality that was thinking and suffering. Such things as had now happened to her, she knew, happened in books. Always books, books, for Mary-Clare, and the old doctor's philosophy that gave strength but no assurance. The actual relation existing between Northrup and herself became a solid and immovable fact. She had not fully accepted it before; neither had he. They had played with it as they had the golden hours that they would not count or measure. Nothing mattered but the truth. Mary-Clare knew that the wonderful thing had had no part in her decision as to Larry--others would not believe that, but she must not be swayed; she knew she had taken her steps faithfully as she had seen them--she must not stumble now because of any one, anything. "It's what you do to love that counts!" Almost fiercely Mary-Clare grasped this. And in that moment Noreen, Northrup's mother, even Larry and the girl who had just departed, put in their claim. She must consider them; they were all part with Northrup and her. "There is nothing for me to do but wait." Mary-Clare seemed to hear herself speaking the words. "I can do nothing now but wait. But I will not fear the Truth." The bared Truth stood revealed; before it Mary-Clare did not flinch. "This is what it has all meant. The happiness, the joy, the strange intensity of common things." Then Mary-Clare bowed her head upon her folded arms while the warm sunlight came into the doorway and lay full upon her. She was absorbed in something too big to comprehend. She felt as if she was being born into--a woman! The birth-pains were wrenching; she could not grasp anything beyond them, but she counted every one and gloried in it. The Big Thing that poor Peneluna had known was claiming Mary-Clare. It could not be denied; it might be starved but it would not die. Somewhere, on beyond---- But oh! Mary-Clare was young, young, and her beyond was not the beyond of Peneluna; or if it were, it lay far, far across a desert stretch. CHAPTER XVI Northrup had cast himself upon Twombley's hospitality with the plea of business. He outlined a programme and demanded silence. "I'm going to buy this Point," he confided, "and I'm going to go away, Twombley. I'm going to leave things exactly as they are until--well, perhaps always. Just consider yourself my superintendent." Twombley blinked. "Snatching hot cakes?" he asked. "Spoiling Maclin's meal?" "Something like that, yes. I don't know what all this means, Twombley, but I'm going to take no chances. I want to be in a position to hit square if anything needs hitting. If no one knows that I'm in on this deal, I'll be better pleased--but I want you to keep me informed." Twombley nodded. About noon Northrup departed, but he did not reach the inn until nearly dark.