Still, like animal and tamer they measured each other from the safer distance. Presently the girl spoke, laying all the blame upon him for the fright and suffering. "What right have you, Jude Lauzoon, to come here insulting me?" "What right had you," he blurted out, "to make me think you was that--that sort?" "I didn't make you think it--you thought it because you--wanted to think it--it was in you." The beast was quelled now, and a stifled sob rose to the boyish throat. "I--I didn't want to think it--God knows I didn't, Joyce, it was that that drove me mad." "Can a man only think bad when he sees what he doesn't understand?" Revulsion of feeling was making Joyce desperate. While her new power brought her a delirious joy, it also, she was beginning to understand, brought a terror she had never conceived before. She wished the house were nearer the other human habitations. "If you're that kind, Jude, you had better take yourself to the Black Cat; you'll find plenty of your liking down there." Jude was visibly cowering now. "Why did he kiss you?" he pleaded. "Suppose I gave him the right?" "Then what am I to think? Have you given him the right? Does he want the right? I mean the right first--and last?" Jude was gaining ground, but neither he nor the girl to whom he spoke realized it yet. Joyce drew back. "What is that to you?" she murmured hanging her head. For the moment she was safe--but she felt cornered. Jude again bent toward her over his hands clenched close. "It means everything," he panted, "and you know it. I've always liked you best of anything on earth--ever since I went to school, to please you, over to Hillcrest; ever since I tried to keep from the Black Cat, because you asked me to. I've gone following after you kinder heedless-like till--till he gave me a blow twixt the eyes, with his hand-holding and kissing. It drove me crazy. I never thought of any one else with you--least of all John Gaston and you. He didn't seem your kind--I don't know why, but he didn't. Howsomever, if it's all right--God knows I ain't in it--that's all." A hoot of an owl outside made Joyce start nervously. She was unstrung and superstitious--the fun of the game died in her, and she felt weak and nauseated. She spoke as if she wanted to finish the matter and have done with it forever. "Well, I didn't give him the right. He didn't want it. I guess it was all foolish--everything is foolish. When he found out how I liked books, and how I wanted to know about things, he just naturally was kind and he let me go to his shack to read. Sometimes he was there, sometimes he wasn't. He just thought about me as if I was a little girl--Maggie Falstar used to go sometimes--he told her fairy stories--it was all the same to him, until--" the wonderful colour that very pale people often have rose suddenly to Joyce's face, and the eyes became dreamy--"one day a week ago." "Well," Jude urged her on--he was sensing the situation from the man's standpoint.