Baird considered for a longer space, and then summed up thus: "From the very first Judith appealed to the best in me--she's appealed more to the mental than the physical side of me. That's why, instead of plunging along in a fever these last twenty-four hours, I've been planning for a contented future. And if respect and admiration and the certainty that a woman will make you a splendid, wife, plus a reasonable degree of passion, aren't good reasons for thinking of marriage, then I've learned nothing from watching men who have been infatuated with their wives in much the same fashion that a man is infatuated with his mistress; the result is usually ructions. I love Judith in sensible marrying fashion, but I confess I ought to feel more joyous over it." Unless a man is permeated by the golden thing of which, as yet, Baird had little conception, he is apt to settle his own case first and the woman's last. He turned finally to a consideration of Judith. Baird was not any more conceited than the average man, but the certainty that Judith loved him about as completely as a woman could love a man was his unalterable conviction. He might live to be eighty, live to doubt most things, but of that he was certain. And it had not been a sudden thing with her; it was a culmination, a steady growing up to an involuntary offering. She desired him and wished to marry him, and not after the deliberate fashion in which he had been considering their union. Judith loved him intensely, and had sought to attract him as many honest women before her had sought to capture the men they wished to marry. She had waited through the day, then had gone because she must do something to save her pride. She knew that, if the spark was in him at all, he would follow. He knew now just how it was with him, and he knew how it was with her. He wasn't in the least elated, yet he was pretty thoroughly committed. What did he intend to do? XXIV A DEFINITION OF LOVE Baird was still pondering his situation when, half an hour later, he let himself through the Penniman gate. The collie must have been abroad in the moonlight seeking adventure, for Baird was not disturbed by any hostile demonstrations; the Penniman barn and house might have been abandoned property, they were so silent under the moon; there was no lighted window, no stir of any kind--until he neared the front porch--then some woman dressed in white rose from a chair, evidently startled. Even in the bright moonlight, Baird could not tell whether it was Ann Penniman or not, he was not near enough, but he was quick to reassure whoever it was: "It's Nickolas Baird; Mr. Penniman gave me permission to come through."