He shuddered, less at the narrowness of his own escape, than at New York whose business came up to him now through the open windows.... The shaving had dragged. He was not accustomed to study his own face. The very novelty of it had held him this time--and especially the thought of what she might have seen there. Suddenly he wanted something big to take back to her--a manhood of mind and an integrity of soul--something to match that superb freedom she had wrung from the world. A thousand times the different parts of her story had returned to his mind, always filling him with awe and wonder. She had come like one with a task, and set about it from a child, against all odds, putting all laws of men beneath--as if the task had been arranged before she came. He knew that the essence of this freedom was in the hearts of women everywhere, but she had made it manifest, dared all suffering for it. And yet with all the struggle behind her, the gentleness which he had come to know in her nature was one of the great revelations. It gave him a vision of the potential beauty of humanity; it made him understand that one must be powerful before one can be gentle; that one must master one’s self before one dare be free. All that he had was far too little to bring home to her. This morning he felt that nothing short of the impossible was worth going after. A little later as he was leaving the room, the telephone rang. The operator said that a gentleman wanted to see him. On the lower floor, Bellair glanced into the eyes of a young man who wanted something; “glanced _into_” is somewhat inaccurate; rather his eyes glanced from the other’s, and took away a peculiar, indescribable interest. It was the look of a colt he had seen, a glitter of wildness and irresponsibility in a face that was handsome but not at its best. Bellair had seen something of the expression in the faces of young men who had been fathered too much; those who had not met the masterful influence of denial, and had been allowed to lean too long. The face had everything to charm and to express beauty and reality with, but the inner lines of it were not formed; the judgments lacking, the personal needs too imperious. He had made the most of well-worn clothing, but appeared to feel keenly the poorness of it. “I came in here yesterday,” he said hastily. “It all happened because the ledger was turned back. I glanced at it, as one will, and standing out from the page was ‘Auckland, N. Z.’ It was as if written in different colour to me. I followed the line back to the name--and tried to see you yesterday afternoon and last night. You didn’t come in----” “You come from Auckland?” Bellair asked. “Yes----” “How long?” “It’s more than a year.... Small thing to meet a stranger on, but it was all I had. Auckland is so far and so different--that when I saw it--it seemed there must be a chance----” “Of course. I know how it is,” said Bellair. “Do you want to get back?”