Sue put the corner of the house between her and the woman, and stood for a moment in confused thought. She was too terrified to think clearly; she could make no plan; she felt bewildered and helpless.... She would have to tell Coats--she dared not keep the thing to herself. He would have to be told in the end, anyway.... It was trouble again for Coats, desperate trouble. It was of Coats Sue was thinking, more than of Ann. She would rather have died than bring this thing on him, this long perspective of trouble for them all. Sue went draggingly to the barn. Coats was in the wagon-shed, shifting the buggies and wagons so as to make room for a new hayrack. He saw Sue come in, simply that she was there, in the doorway. "Time for supper?" he asked. "I didn't know it was so late." He was looking at the bare space he had made. "Coats--" At the husky note he turned quickly and saw her face. He reached her at a stride. "Sue!" Sue could not find words; she looked at him haggardly. "What's the matter?" he demanded. "What's happened?" "It's Ann, Coats." His brows lowered and the color came in his face. "Ann?... Well?" "I just found it out this afternoon.... She's been meeting Garvin Westmore--for a long time. They've planned to go away together." Sue could not bring herself to tell him her worst fear, not at once. But Coats leaped to it; he grew white. "She, she's not--?" "I don't know--Coats," she said with difficulty. "I can't find her anywhere--I wanted to ask her before I told you. Rachel says she went down to the woods about an hour ago.... I ran out of writin' paper an' went to Ann's room, to her box for some, an' I found a sheet in it with 'Dear Garvin' an' some other words of a letter that was begun. I was so frightened I broke open her trunk then, an' I found a lot of his letters. He, writes like they were engaged, but ... Coats, I'm afraid--I'm afraid she's in trouble--" She would have to say it sooner or later; it was best they should face it together. Coats had grown quite gray, the down-drawn muscles of his face making him look old. He looked away from Sue's quivering face, beyond her to the open, staring down the vista of the past. "It had to be a Westmore, of course," he said slowly and with extraordinary evenness. "It's about time that family became extinct." To one who did not know Coats Penniman, the words would sound cold, but Sue knew the meaning of the gray tint that had overspread his face, and the extent of the concentrated rage that edged each word with bitter sarcasm. In her terror she began to cry. "I don't know it's true, Coats--I don't know it's true, dear.... I haven't talked to Ann. We can't tell till we've asked Ann.... Coats, if harm comes to you because of this, it'll just kill me--" Coats looked at her; took her arm. "Don't, Sue--don't cry so.... I can't do anything till I'm sure. I can't tell till I see his letters. Where are they, Sue?" "At the house.... It'll drive you mad to read them."