When he returned, after an interview which, needless to say, had somewhat surprised the Judge, he found a very different Jean Story. She was waiting for him quiet and subdued, without a trace of her late irritation. "Did you tell him?" she said gently. "Yes." "What did he say?" "I didn't ask for an answer. I told him how I felt, and that I would rather my opinions should be known. That's all." "Are you going?" she said, as he made a movement. "I didn't know--" he said, hesitating and looking at her. "I am not angry," she said a little wistfully. "You were quite right. I'm glad you did it. You are much bigger than I could be--I like that." "You were the first to wake me up," he said happily, sitting down. "Yes, but you have gone so far ahead. You do things without compromise, and that sometimes frightens me." She stopped a moment, and said, looking at him steadily: "You have kept away a long while. Now you see you are caught. You can't avoid being alone with me." "I don't want to," he said abruptly. "You are so proud, Dink," she said softly, using his nickname for the first time. "I have never seen any one so proud. Everything you do I think comes from that. But it must make you suffer terribly." "Yes, it does." They were in the front parlor, dimly lit, sitting on the window-seat, hearing from time to time the passing chug of horses' feet. "I knew how it must have hurt you--all this publicity," she said slowly. "Why didn't you come when I wrote you? Were you too proud?" "Yes, I suppose so--and then it didn't seem fair to you--after all the talk." "I was proud of you," she said, raising her head a little. She put out her hand again to his, leaving it in his for a long time, while they sat in silence. The touch that once had so disturbed him brought now only a gentle serenity. He thought of the other woman, and what might have been, with almost a hatred, the hatred of man towards whatever he wrongs. "You are right about me," he said slowly. "Most people think I don't care what happens, that I'm sort of a thick-skinned rhinoceros. How did you know?" "I knew." She withdrew her hand slowly, without resistance on his part; only when he held it no longer he felt alone, abandoned to the blackness of the street outside. "I've kept my promise to you, Jean," he said a little unsteadily, "but don't make it too hard." She rose and he followed. Together they stood in the shadows of the embrasure, half seeing each other. Only he knew that her large eyes were looking out at him with the look of the woman that he had first called forth when he had wounded the pride of the girl. "I am glad you didn't listen to me just now," she said slowly. "When?"