Still, the more he pondered, the more clearly he saw that she was not a girl who, under the spell of friendly good will, would permit a false situation to exist. Her sincerity was too deep for such a glossing of fact. He dared assume, then, that her sympathy with him went even so far as to accept his attitude when it was a shade more than friendly. More than friendly! Like a white light, the truth flashed upon him as he stood there on the rocking platform of the car. He and she would have to be more than friendly! He had never seen her until that day. He did not even know her name. But all his life belonged to her, and would belong to her forever. The miracle which had been worked upon him, might it not also have been worked upon her? He felt unworthy, and yet she might care--might already have begun to care--But he put the daring hope out of his mind, and looked again at Maku. The Japanese had not moved. His face still wore its racial look of patient indifference; his hands were still crossed in his lap. He sat on the edge of the seat, in order that his feet might rest on the floor, for his legs were short; and with every lurch of the car, he swayed easily, adapting himself to the motion with an unconscious ease that betrayed supple muscles. The car stopped at a corner and the man and woman got out, but Maku did not even seem to glance at them. Orme stepped back to make way for them on the platform, and as they descended and the conductor rang the bell, he looked out at the suburban landscape, with its well-lighted, macadamized streets, its vacant lots, and its occasional houses, which seemed to be of the better class, as nearly as he could judge in the uncertain rays of the arc-lamps. He turned to the conductor, who met his glance with the look of one who thirsts to talk. "People used to go to parties in carriages and automobiles," said the conductor, "but now they take the car when they've any distance to go. It's quicker and handier." "I should think that _would_ be so, here in the suburbs," said Orme. "Oh, this ain't the suburbs. We crossed the city limits twenty minutes ago." "You don't carry many passengers this time of night." "That depends. Sometimes we have a crowd. To-night there's hardly anyone. Nobody else is likely to get on now." "Why is that?" "Well, it's only a short way now to the connection with the elevated road. People who want to go the rest of the way by the elevated, would walk. And after we pass the elevated there's other car-lines they're more likely to take, where the cars run frequenter." "Do you go to the heart of the city?" "No, we stop at the barns. Say, have you noticed that Jap in there?" The conductor nodded toward Maku. "What about him?" "He was put aboard by a cop. Looks as though somebody had slugged him." "That's so," commented Orme. "His head is bandaged."