He took the path by the side of the road which led in the opposite direction from the Maxineff place. He lit his first pipe since morning. How good life was! The town, the plant, Maxineff, were all behind him. Ahead was a goal toward which he bore with increasing lightness of heart. Clearly defined decisions, unregretted, faded into the brightness of anticipation. His pack of problems dropped from him. One day more and he could speak--one evening of companionable friendship. Her yard was a gnomish alternation of unsullied light and alluring shade. The moon utilized impartially natural and artificial features of landscape as detail for the picture of gray, black, and silver. Noakes traversed less rapidly the curved driveway, pausing where it was cut by a paved way to the door. Through a window he saw her seated on the piano-bench, her head bent forward, her mellow-tinted hair coiled low. She was singing softly. She came to the door to meet him. 'Will duty call you back before you have been with me just a little while?' she asked as they entered the room. 'No, duty has lost her voice at present.' She dropped into a big arm-chair. He turned his back to the light, and sat facing her. 'What have you been doing this week?' 'Singing mostly.' 'Sing now, please.' 'No, let's talk first.' 'Well, how did Cornish behave on your way back?' 'Quite as well as if you had been with us, Noakes.' He leaned forward quickly. 'Do you know, that's the first time you've called me "Noakes"?' 'It slipped. Mrs. Max says it, you know; I am weak about taking on colloquialisms.' 'And you are sorry you have been so easily influenced?' Noakes asked in ponderous aggrievement. 'You do not seem to be overjoyed.' 'I am,' he said gently. 'Don't be hilarious over it.' 'I will; I wish--' 'Well, certainly; "Noakes" it shall be.' 'Thanks, Miss Beck.' 'Haven't you done anything but work these days?' 'I have thought more or less.' 'Strange; what about?' 'You, of course.' 'Steady! Spring has passed.' 'And to-night I heard a queer thing about you.' 'What?' she asked in an engaging manner of invitation to confidence. 'That you are to be married. I have it on the word of my landlady.' 'I?' 'So it is rumored in the village.' 'I am glad my family is not so anxious to thrust me off as my friends are.' 'And you are unwilling to be thrust off, as you put it?' 'Married? No, not unwilling; unprepared. It is so very final, you know. A woman gives up everything.' 'Not necessarily.' 'Oh, yes she does: freedom, family, associations.' 'And in return?' 'From the right man she gets--a sort of compensation.' 'Not a high valuation.' 'A true one; she knows she cares more than he does.' 'No, no!' Noakes spoke from a full heart. 'She does; and knowing it, she need not expect equal return--only part compensation. But how good he ought to be!' 'Good?' he asked doubtfully. 'Yes, everything she thinks he is.' 'No man loved of woman is that.'