He picked up a picture postcard from the mantelpiece. It was a photograph of herself and Tim taken together. “Yes, yes,” she nodded gratefully. “I’ll slip it to him if I git the chanst,” he promised again. “What will they do to him?” Julie breathed. He shook his head. “I don’t know--I don’t know how bad he’s in.” “Will I know what happens?” she questioned. “You--you ain’t his wife, are you?” he asked uncertainly. “No,” she answered, her wide eyes looking at him unfalteringly. “The government only notifies the wife or next of kin,” he mumbled, as though repeating a formula. “I’m goin’ back to Hart’s Run,” she told him simply. “If the law wants me, too, I’ll be there. My name’s Julie Rose.” “Here, Jack, where in the hell are you?” the sheriff bawled from outside. “Coming!” the lingerer cried, and went, slipping the postcard into his pocket. Julie stumbled to the window and peered out. Tim was walking between the two men. As they came to the corner where he had always turned to wave a farewell to her, he paused now and half turning raised his hand, but the sheriff struck it angrily down and thrust him on around the corner out of sight. Julie stood a long time, her head pressed hard against the window frame, her eyes fixed blankly on the street; but she knew that she must face it sometime, and at last she jerked herself round, and, straining back against the sill, let the empty desolation of the room rush over her. XXI Julie awoke the next morning in the dim and early light and sat up in her berth. She had slept so profoundly, swept down to such depths of unconsciousness, that for a moment on awakening she appeared to have drifted beyond all the moorings of her accustomed self, so that it took her a few moments of uncertain staring at the swaying green curtains of the berth and at the flickering light across the bedclothes, to realize that she was on the train. “I’m going home,” she told herself at last. Yesterday, with all its complete shattering of her life in Richmond, its agony of parting in the morning, and its long hot sufferings of the ensuing day, was gone into the past, and this was to-morrow.