Adamsville was locked to him. The moribund socialist movement would use his voluntary services; but he needed a livelihood. Serrano, Jensen, Mrs. Spigner, on a hurried visit, had called by; the comrades were reacting to him, though the unions held off. But Adamsville would need a scorifying industrial schooling before solidarity could come. He had lost his craving for the role of teacher ... even if he had been acceptable. He must leave Adamsville. He confided this to Jensen, and the Hernandezes. "I might organize for the National Socialist Office, or do something for the New York Philanthropy Bureau." "That's bourgeois, comrade," objected Mrs. Hernandez. "I must make a living." The morning's mail, a few days later, contained a curt note from Jane; his fingers tore it open with awkward haste. "I hear that you are planning to leave Adamsville," it ran. "Even if we can't live together, I can not see you waste your possibilities, here or elsewhere. Come by and see me, before doing anything definite. I am your friend, as long as you will have me." He hurried to the phone, pausing a moment, with hand over the transmitter, to steady his voice. She told him he could come at once. There was no buoyancy in his greeting. "I've made a mess of things, Jane." "It was disgraceful," she sympathized vigorously, "raking up that old story. Pig-headed fools always turn on you." "They were sick of the whole thing; they couldn't see that the strike had brought them closer to victory." She leaned forward, lips parted in the old bewitching way, her brown eyes radiant. "Did your father arrange that?" "He's strong on family." "It was a shame." "I meant more than that.... My savage report as mining inspector.... Then--with you." Her head remained averted. "Maybe you'd rather I wouldn't mention that----" Gradually she faced him. "I think I understand that ... too. You're not worse than most husbands.... Only, I wish you'd finished sowing your wild oats before your marriage." "I felt----" "You see how it is, Pelham," she explained as gravely as to a little child. "You had to choose between me, and other women. You made your choice." "Was it ... necessarily ... final, Jane?" Her frank eyes searched his face. "Sometimes I tell myself it ought to be. It's hard.... You see, I love you, Pelham." "Suppose I came to you, on your terms...." "I should reserve the right to act as you did, if I ever wished to." He nodded, trying to make out what was going on within her mind. "I would tell you, though," she went on. "With that understanding ... yes." He did not touch her, sensing the physical revulsion she must still feel. His voice trembled in joyful disbelief. "You'll really----" "I am your wife. And I love you." Her fingers brushed his hand; he shivered in passionate repression. "Jane----" A troubled crease roughened his forehead, "I'll try----" "That's all I can ask."