She made no reply and seemed buried in her thoughts. "By the way," he remarked, "whom do you think I saw on the street to-day? Wright. He was staring at Letterson's new store,--you know Frank Peyton did it. The old man stopped me and seemed really glad to see me. I suppose he knows everything, too," he added musingly. The incident comforted him greatly. He had seen Wright in the crowded street, and had looked away from him, meaning to hurry past, but the older man had stretched out his long arm and good-naturedly drawn Hart to one side out of the press of the street. "How are you, Hart?" he had said cordially, with his boyish smile. "What do you think of this thing? Bold, isn't it? That Peyton's got nerve to put up this spiderweb right here in State Street. Now, I couldn't do that! But I guess he's on the right track. That's what we are coming to. What do you think?" They had walked down the street together, and Wright had continued to talk of Peyton and the other young architects in the city, and of their work. "I tell you, those youngsters have got the future. They have the courage to try experiments. That won't do for an old fellow like me. My clients would kick, too, if I took to anything new. But I like to see the young ones try it.... What are you doing?" he had asked abruptly. "Come in to see me, won't you? I shall be here two or three weeks. Be sure to come in, now!" They had shaken hands, and the older architect had looked searchingly into Hart's face, his boyish smile changing subtly into an expression of concern and sweetness, as if there was something on the tip of his tongue which he refrained from saying there in the crowded street. The memory of the little meeting came back to the man now, and he felt more grateful for Wright's cordiality than he had at the time. "Wright asked me to come in and see him. I think I will do it some day," he remarked presently. "Why not give up the idea of starting your own office?" Helen asked suddenly, her thoughts having come to a definite point. "What do you mean? Try something else? It would be pretty risky," he answered doubtfully, surprised that she should want him to abandon his profession, to admit defeat. "I didn't mean that, exactly. It wouldn't do at all for you to give up architecture. That never entered my mind. Only--listen!" She slipped from the lounge where she had been sitting and knelt beside him, taking the lapels of his coat in her hands, her face aglow with a sudden enthusiasm. "I've been thinking of so many things these last months, and lately, while Powers has been so sick, I've thought of everything since we were in Italy together, since I loved you,--all those talks we had, and the plans we made, the work you did, the sketches--those first ones." She paused, trying to put her tumultuous thoughts in order.