On the day of Jud's departure she met 'Gene in the village. Her husband had made her happy with the renewed promise that she could come to him in the spring. Justine's heart was singing, her lips were burning with the warmth of his love. Bundled in shawls and blankets, she drove slowly from the village through the first vicious attacks of a blizzard. Her thoughts were of the handsome, well-dressed youth in the warm railway coach. She forgot the cold, blustery weather and saw only the bright garden of paradise which his love had created. Her heart sang with the memory of the past two days and nights spent with him. Just as her old gray horse fumbled his way into the open lane at the edge of town, she saw a man plodding against the wind, not far ahead along the roadside. It was 'Gene and he was starting out upon a long walk to Martin Grimes's place. With a blow or two of the "gad," she urged the horse past him. The single glance she gave him showed his face red with the cold and his head bent against the wind. As she passed he looked up and spoke. "Howdy, Justine." "Good evening, 'Gene," she replied, but she could hardly hear her own voice. "It's a nasty drive you got ahead of you," he called. "O, I'll soon be home," she responded, and he was left behind. For half a mile there rang in her ears the accusing words: "It's a nasty drive you got ahead of you." What of the walk ahead of him? Now that she had grown calm she wondered how she could have passed him without asking him to ride home. He had been kind to her, after all; he had redeemed himself to some extent in the past few weeks and--he had not asked her for the ride as she had feared he would. She recalled his cheery greeting and his half-frozen face and then his anxiety concerning the discomfort ahead of her. By no sign did he show a desire to annoy her with his company. She looked back over the road. In the twilight, far behind, she saw him trudging along, a lonely figure against the sky. "It's a shame to make him walk all the way home. He'll freeze, and I can just as well take him in as not," she said to herself, and pulled the horse to a standstill, resolved to wait for him. Then came the fear that some one might see him riding home with her. The country would wonder and would gossip. Unsophisticated country girl as she was, she knew and abhorred gossip. Once a good girl's name is coupled with that of a man in the country, the whole community shuns her; she is lost. In the country they never forget and they never investigate. Turning her face resolutely she whipped up, leaving him far behind.