Carmel seemed to be released now from the enchantment which had held her motionless. She had seen a thing, a thing she could never forget. She had seen a thing called physical courage, and a higher thing called moral courage. That is what had held her, fascinated her.... It had been grim, terrible, but wonderful. Every time she saw Evan return to his futile attack she knew she was seeing the functioning of a thing wholly admirable. “I never see sich grit,” she heard a bystander say, and with the dictum she agreed. It had been pure grit, the possession of the quality of indomitability.... And this was the man she had looked down upon, patronized!... This possession had been hidden within him, and even he had not dreamed of its presence. She caught her breath.... In an instant she was bending over Evan, lifting his head, wiping his lips with her handkerchief. She looked up in Deputy Jenney’s eyes, and her own eyes blazed. “You coward!... You unspeakable coward!” she said. The deputy shuffled on his feet. “He got what was comin’ to him.... He’ll git it ag’in every time I see him. I’ll drive him out of this here town.” “No,” said Carmel--and she knew she was speaking the truth--“you won’t drive him out of town. You can kill him, but you can’t drive him out of town.” The deputy shrugged his shoulders and slouched away. He was glad to go away. Something had deprived him of the enjoyment he anticipated from this event. He had a strange feeling that he had not come off victor in spite of the fact that his antagonist lay motionless at his feet.... Scowls and mutterings followed him, but no man dared lift his hand. Evan struggled to lift his head. Through battered eyes he looked at the crowd packed close about him. “Er--tell this crowd to disperse,” he said. “Can you walk?” “Of course,” he said in his old, dry tone--somewhat shaky, but recognizable. “Let me help you into the office.” He would have none of it. “I fancy I can walk without assistance,” he said, and, declining her touch, he made his way through the crowd and into the office, where he sunk into a chair. Here he remained erect, though Carmel could see it was nothing but his will which prevented him from allowing his head to sink upon the table. She touched his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I--I want to apologize for--for things I have said to you.” He looked at her in his old manner, rather superciliously. “Oh, doubtless you were right,” he said. “I--er--do not seem to be a success as a--pugilist.” “You were----” “If you please,” he said, holding up a hand which he strove to keep from shaking. “If you will be so good as to go to luncheon.” “But----” “If you get pleasure out of seeing me like this!” he said with acerbity, and she, seeing how his pride was wounded, how he was shaken by this new experience, and understanding very vaguely something of the emotions which must be seething within him, turned away and left him alone....