Although Bob Story was bound to him by the closest social ties, Dink felt, nor was he altogether at fault in the feeling, that the brother was still on the defensive with him, due to a natural resentment perhaps at Dink's too evident interest in his sister. When he arrived at the old colonial house set back among the elms, Eliza, the maid, informed him that no one was at home. Miss Jean was out riding. But immediately she corrected herself, and, going upstairs to make sure, returned with the welcome information that Miss Story had just returned and begged him to wait. He took the request as a meager evidence of her interest, and entered the drawing-room. Waiting there for her to come tripping down the stairs, he began to think of the new horizon that had opened to him, and the new feeling of maturity; and, feeling this with an acute realization, he was impatient for her to come, that he might tell her. It was a good ten minutes before he turned suddenly at a rustling on the stairs, and saw her, fresh and flushed from the ride. "It's awfully good of you to wait," she called to him. "I did my best to rush." Arrived on the landing, she gave him her hand, looking at him a little earnestly. "How are you? You're a terrible stranger." "Have I been very bad?" he said, holding her hand. "Indeed you have. Even Bob said he hardly saw you. What have you been doing?" She withdrew her hand gently, but stood before him, looking into his face with her frank, inquiring eyes. Stover wondered if she thought he'd been a trifle wild; and, as there was no justification, he was immensely flattered, and a little tempted dramatically to assume an attitude that would call for reform. He smiled and said: "I've been on a voyage of discovery, that's all. You'll be interested." They sat down, and he began directly to talk, halting in broken phrases at first, gradually finding his words as he entered his subject. "By George! I've had a wonderful two weeks--a revelation--just as though--just as though I'd begun my college course; that's really what it means. All I've done before doesn't count. And to think, if it hadn't been for an accident, I might have gone on without ever waking up." He recounted his visit to Swazey's rooms, drawing a picture of his self-satisfied self descending _en prince_ to bestow a favor; and, warming out of his stiffness, drew a word picture of Swazey's telling his story before the fire, and the rough sentiment with which he brought forth the odd, common little tintypes. "By George! the fellow had told a great story and he didn't know it; but I knew it, and it settled me," he added with earnestness, always aware of her heightened attention. "It was a regular knockout blow to the conceited, top-heavy, prancing little ass who had gone there. By Jove, it gave me a jar. I went out ashamed." "It is a very wonderful life--simple, wonderful," she said slowly, thinking more of the relator than of the story. "I understand all you felt."