“You may be above appearances and considerations of decency but I’m not. If you ever appear in public with him again you can stop coming here. Because I won’t have anything more to do with you.” “But Tirzah ...” I began helplessly, overwhelmed by the impossibility of coping with the irrelevancies and inconsistencies of her stand. “But Tirzah....” “No,” she said firmly; “you’ll simply have to grow up, Hodge, and stop such childish exhibitions. Only friend indeed! Why I suppose if he appeared here right this minute, you’d talk to him.” “Well naturally. You’d hardly expect me to—” “But I do. That’s exactly what I’d expect. You to act like a civilized man.” I wasnt angry. I couldnt be angry with her. “If that’s civilization then I guess I don’t want to be civilized.” I detected astonishment in her voice. “You mean, actually mean, you intend to keep on acting this way?” Grandfather Backmaker must have been a stubborn man; I had my mother’s word I possessed no Hodgins traits. “Tirzah, what would you think of me if I turned on my only friend, the only thoroughly kind and understanding friend Ive ever had, just because Mrs Smythe has different notions of propriety than I have?” “I’d think you were beginning to understand things at last.” “I’m sorry, Tirzah.” “I mean it, Hodge, you know. I’ll never see you again.” “If you’d only listen to my side—” “You mean if I would only become a crank like you. But I don’t want to be a crank or a martyr. I don’t want to change the world. I’m normal.” “Tirzah—” “Goodbye, Hodge.” She walked away. I had the irrational feeling that if I called after her she might come back. Or at least stand still and wait to hear what I had to say. I kept my mouth obstinately closed; Enfandin had been right, the responsibility was mine. There were things I would not give up. My heroic mood must have lasted fully fifteen minutes. Then I hurried through the little park and across the street to the Smythe house. There were lights in the upper floors, but the basement, as always, was dark. I dared not knock or ring the bell; her admonitions were too firmly impressed on my mind. Instead, in a turmoil of emotions, I paced the flagged sidewalk until the suspicious eye of a patrolman was attracted; then I fled cravenly. I couldnt wait for the next day to write a long, chaotic letter begging her to let me talk to her, just to talk to her, for an hour, ten minutes, a minute. I offered to indent, to emigrate, to make a fortune by some inspired means if only she would hear me. I recalled moments together, I told her I loved her, said I would die without her. Having covered several pages with these sentiments I began all over and repeated them. It was dawn when I posted the letter in the pneumatic mail. Sleepless and tormented, I was of little use to Tyss next day. Would she telegraph? If she answered by pneumatic post her letter might be delivered in the afternoon. Or would she come to the bookstore?