Freda felt that night that all her dreams, all her vague anticipations of doing were suddenly translated into activity and reality. In the strangest way in the world, it seemed to her, so naïve was she about the obscure ways of most things, she had a room of her own and a job in St. Pierre. Margaret Duffield had smiled a little at the news of her job but at Freda’s quick challenge as to whether she were really imposing on Mr. Flandon, Margaret insisted that she merely found Gage himself humorous. She did not say why that was so. Together she and Freda went to see the landlady about a room for Freda. There was one, it appeared, in an apartment on the third floor. Freda could have it, if she took it at once, and so it was arranged. It was a plain little room with one window, long and thin like the shape of the room, furnished sparsely and without grace, but Freda stood in the midst of it with her head high and a look of wondering delight in her eyes, fingering her door key. Later she went down to Margaret’s apartment to carry up her suitcase. She found Gregory there. He had not come for lunch as Margaret had warned her. Seeing him now more clearly than she had the night before, Freda saw how cadaverous his face was, how little color there was in his cheeks. She thought he looked almost ill. They did not hear her come in. Gregory was sitting with his eyes on Margaret, telling her something and she was listening in a protesting way. It occurred to Freda that of course they were in love. She had suspected it vaguely from their attitude. Now she was sure. She coughed and they looked up. “It’s my damsel in distress,” said Gregory, rising, “did everything clear up? Is the ogress destroyed?” “If she is, poor Miss Duffield had to do it.” “She wouldn’t mind. She likes cruelties. She’s the most cruel person--” “Hush, Gregory, don’t reveal all my soul on the spot.” “Cruel--and over modest. As if a soul isn’t always better revealed--” “You can go as far as you like later. Just now you might carry Freda’s suitcase upstairs.” He took the suitcase and followed them, entering Freda’s little room which he seemed to fill and crowd. “So this is where you take refuge from the ogress?” “It’s more than a refuge--it’s a tower of independence.” He looked at her appreciatively. “We’ll agree on many things.” Margaret asked Freda to come down with them and she went, a little reluctantly wondering if she were not crowding their kindness. But Gregory insisted as well as Margaret.