Immediately her decision was taken. She left the two men together and went to make the necessary preparations for this refugee's accommodation. Curiously enough, these preparations were not complete for nearly an hour, at the time, in fact, that it was her father's habit to seek his bed. When she returned to the parlor the place was full of the reek of Bud's tobacco, but it was only from the one pipe. Neither of the men were talking when she entered the room, and her glance passed swiftly from one to the other. She moved over to where Jeff was sitting with his back turned to her, and stood behind his chair. "Everything's fixed for you, Jeff," she said. "But--but maybe you don't feel like turning in yet. My Daddy usually goes at this time, and--he's had a hard day." Bud looked across at her. His pipe was removed from his mouth for the purpose of protest. But the protest remained unspoken in face of the meaning he beheld in the girl's brown eyes. Instead he rose heavily from his rocker. "Say, jest take your time, Jeff, boy," he said. "Guess you'll need to think hard before mornin'. I don't guess it's your way to jump at things. I ain't never see you jump yet. Anyway, when you're thinkin', boy, it'll be best to remember that a woman's jest a woman, an' her notions ain't allus our notions." Nan came over to him, and he rested one great arm about her shoulders, and stooped and kissed her. "Good-night, little gal," he said. "Maybe Jeff'll excuse me. An' maybe you ken tell him some o' them things that don't come easy to me. So long, Jeff. I'll sure see you in the mornin' before you quit." He stood uncertainly for a moment with his arm upon Nan's shoulders. He seemed to want to say more, and was at a loss how to say it. Finally he stuck his pipe back into his mouth with a savage thrust and lumbered heavily from the room. Nan understood. She knew he was laboring under profound emotion, and a feeling of self-disgust at his own inability to help his partner and friend. As the door closed she moved over to the table and leaned against it. Jeff's back was toward her, and his face was turned in the direction of the window, across which the curtains had not yet been drawn. He was leaning forward, his gaze intent and straight ahead out into the black night beyond. His elbows were on his knees, and his hands were clasped, and hanging between them. To the sympathetic heart of Nan there was despair in every line of his attitude. She nerved herself to carry out her decisions. "Jeff!" There was no movement in response. But a reply came. It was in the tone of a man indifferent to everything but the thought teeming through his brain. "Well?" "Why did you come around here--to-night?" The question achieved its purpose. The man abandoned his attitude in a movement of fierce resentment. He swung round on the questioner, his eyes hot with feeling.