“But why should you follow me?” “Because you're the same as I am. That's why you left; you're not at home here. Look how they behaved about Glory. I say, it's our last evening together. Won't you give me--” But, ridiculous as it appeared to her, an almost maidenly fear took hold of her; she fled. He found her in the dark, at the top of the tall house; she was leaning over her child's cot sobbing. He grew out of himself, stronger, better; against her will, he folded her to him. “Won't you give me your answer, darling?” Silence. “I'll be very good to Glory.” Still silence. “Oh, Jehane, I'm so foolish--such a weak, foolish fellow; I need your strength. With you I could be a man.” Then all that was maternal awoke in her. She remembered how she had seen him looking empty-handed, while those clever men and women had stared. “You musn't mind my cousin. He's a genial ass. Sometimes it takes him like that.”--Cruel! Cruel! She took his head and pressed it to her bosom, kissing him on the forehead. Nan, disturbed by their disappearance, found them kneeling, hand-in-hand, beside Glory. That night as she sat before her mirror undressing, she let her hands fall to her side, listless. Barrington stole up behind her and kissed her on the neck, rubbing his face against hers. “That's what Peter calls softying.” “But you weren't thinking of Peter, little woman.” “How did you know that?” “You looked sad. What's the trouble?” She bent back her head, so that their eyes met and their lips were near to touching. “If I hadn't been there that day, would you have loved Jehane instead?” “Pepperminta, I was in love with you when we played together at Cassingland. Why ask foolish questions?” “Because it's happened.” “You don't mean--?” “Yes. She's taken him, and I'm sure she doesn't want him.” Barrington drew himself upright, then stooped over her; he was realizing the perfect joy of his own union with a startled sense of thankfulness. “Poor people,” he murmured. Three months later Jehane was married. The wedding was quiet; there were none but family-guests. No one felt that it was an affair to boast about. It took place from the Professor's house at Oxford; Mr. Tudor performed the ceremony. Glory was being left with Nan till the honeymoon was ended. All morning Jehane's face had been gloomy; perhaps she already had her doubts. Certainly Mr. Waffles did not show to advantage in art Oxford atmosphere. He was too boisterous. His shoes were too shiny. The colors of his tie and button-hole clashed. His clothes looked ready-made. At parting with her mother, Jehane did the unexpected--she wept.