His face broke all at once into laughter. It was a whimsical trick of his nature to experience a certain rueful mirth over his own futilities. “Yes,” he assented, “it is foolish! But anyhow we don’t have to do it with one another, do we,” he said, restating the fact. “I’m kind of lonesome to-night, that was why I come down--I didn’t really want the shears.” “I know. I understand,” she answered again. “My wife likes the movies. She goes to ’em ’most every night, but I don’t care nothin’ about ’em. I don’t see what people finds in them.” “I don’t either,” she confessed. Thereafter they fell into easy and simple conversation. Indeed, why should he not sit and talk a little while to her? He told her of the small happenings of his day at the _News_ office and of the big and terrible news of the world. He did not hasten to cover up any silence with the clatter of talk. He spoke when he felt like it, sitting in the plush rocker and watching her sew, and she replied--or was silent--as she pleased. He stayed for a half-hour or so and then he rose. “Well, I reckon it’s time for me to tell you good-night,” he said, and slipped away up the stairs without further comment. After that he came again and again. The house would be still,--as it never was when Elizabeth’s noisy personality was at home,--Julie would be sewing by her light, when she would hear the key turn in the lock and his foot upon the stair. Once or twice he said, “I was kind of lonesome; maybe you’ll let me sit here a spell,” but later he came without even that preamble, simply saying, “Well, Miss Julie, here I am,” and dropping into the plush rocker as though it were his place that was waiting for him. At first his talk was only general news of the day, but as their intimacy deepened they began to unfold themselves to each other more and more. With all the rest of humanity they continually had to pretend, dressing themselves in a garment of life that was altogether too big for them. With others they were always on the defensive, always erecting hasty barriers of reserve and shyness behind which their sensitive personalities might retreat, but with each other they were free; there they could be spontaneous and completely true. Their real selves came forth and played about naturally and easily in this intercourse of friendly comprehension. The key words of their intimacy came to be, “I know, I understand,” spoken by her, or “Yes, that’s the way it’s always been with me, too,” spoken by him. If there fell a momentary constraint or embarrassment between them, these words were all that were necessary to set them free again. And in the finding of one another’s understanding they found themselves, and a whole new world as well. This world emerged from under all the difficulties and timidities of life as she had known it; from under the strangled inhibitions from which he suffered. It was for them a world that was large and beneficent, where they were big people who were unafraid.