Indiana, lying in the dark, tossed restlessly. Scattered scenes and personages of her old life and the new, floated through her mind, jumbled in a rare confusion. She counted and multiplied to induce sleep. Finally she thought of the formula children repeat when they play hide-and-seek— "’Ena, mino, mina, mo, Catch a nigger by the toe. If he hollers let him go. Ena, mino, mina, mo. You’re it—I’m out!’" "Out of everything," she added, with a sob. "Oh, I can’t sleep!" She tossed the pillows about desperately, feeling nervous and irritable, angry with herself, angry with Thurston and her family. The room was suddenly lit from the lamp on the centre-table. Indiana’s dazzled eyes saw a tall figure standing before her. "Glen!" Jennings retreated with a chuckle of delight. Indiana threw her arms about her old playmate’s neck, and was on the point of kissing him, but drew suddenly back at the recollection that he had been her lover as well as her comrade. "I’ll bet you forgot, for the moment, you were married—now didn’t you?" Indiana nodded. Tears were not very far from her eyes. He pressed her hands, looking into her face. He felt both pain and joy—pain that she was another’s, and joy at beholding her in the flesh once more, no matter under what circumstances. "So you were the surprise," said Indiana, a little shyly. He looked so manly, so strikingly tall and handsome, as he stood there in his evening clothes. His dark eyes gazed at her in an unmistakably tender fashion. "Just as though I were not married at all," thought Indiana, with a sudden uprising of wifely virtue. "I was the surprise," answered Glen, releasing her hands slowly. "I was just trying to sleep, and, thinking of the old days when we played tag together and—" "Yes," said Glen, eagerly. "Oh, never mind," answered Indiana, brushing the tears from her eyes. "The old days," repeated Glen, staring into the fire. "They seem so far away, and it’s only a few months, Glen. So much has happened—I suppose that’s the reason." He looked at her intently. There was a wistful expression in her eyes. She was paler and thinner, more thoughtful. He gathered his own conclusions from her appearance, aided by certain hints which the family had let fall. He knit his brows in a fierce scowl. "What’s the matter, Glen?" "My old thoughts are working on me again—that’s what it is—your mentioning the old days. They were the best after all, Indiana. Why, people are always raving over sunsets. You should have heard them on the steamer coming over. But once I saw a sunset far off in an orchard in Indiana—there’s never been anything to compare with it since—there never will be—to the end of time." "Sit down, Glen. Tell me all about yourself. You’ve changed so much for the better, I’m quite bewildered."