"Good night," he said. When he had said it he continued to stare as if he were weighing the matter over carefully and should say something more. The pause grew embarassing but not to him. Without nodding his head he repeated the result of his deliberations. "Good night," he said in the same voice. That was enough. He left them sitting in their chairs--a general calmly marching off the field of victory. He left behind a silence. The company was uncomfortable. Mrs. Gilchrist and the judge stared hard at the doorway through which Lindstrum had passed. They wanted to insult the doorway. Lindstrum's visit had had a curious effect upon Ramsey. He had sat silent and avoided the young man's eyes. But he had felt himself becoming animated as if something were exciting him. When the young man had glanced at him for a moment he had blushed and an odd nervousness had made his thin body tremble. Now that Lindstrum was gone he felt the room had become empty and entirely lacking in interest. "How do you like him?" Mrs. Basine whispered at his side. She was worried. "Him? Oh yes, the young man," Ramsey muttered. "He ... he has nice eyes." 10 In the park Lindstrum sat on a bench with Doris and talked. "All this," he said, "all this night and trees and things we feel more than we see, are like what you're like. But why should we call that love. Because love means to hold a woman in your arms. I don't care about holding a woman. I want to hold something else. If you hold something in your arms you haven't got it. It's what you can't get your fingers on that you own most. Because you dream about it. It's what you dream about that you own most." He spoke disconnectedly. There were pauses during which he allowed the night to punctuate his thoughts. "Have you written any more things since last time?" Doris asked. "No. I didn't bring anything with me." He was silent. Doris wished he would sit closer to her. His silence excited her. She could feel things moving in him. She became nervous. Her dark eyes looked fully at his profile and a pride elated her. Other men didn't stare like that into the night. They had fussy little eyes and fussy little bodies. They fidgeted around. But Lief sat as if he were turned to granite. There was something ominous about him. The glint of his straight eyes and the leather color of his face were ominous. She felt that he was powerful, more powerful than the spaces he stared into. He could stand up and swing the park around their heads. She wanted to come close to him. "Lief," she whispered, "why don't you come oftener. I get lonely for you. I hardly talk to anybody else." He nodded as if agreeing with her and saying silently, "That's right. Don't talk to anybody else." But he said nothing aloud.