Justine also had a secret. When he was ready to take her to the city, she would confess to him that 'Gene Crawley was to farm the place for her that spring and summer, working it on shares. He was to use his own team, for her horses had died of influenza. So little did Jud know of the old home place now that he did not recognize Crawley's horses in the stable, nor could he see that a man's hand had performed wonders in the field. He was thinking of Chicago and the miserable broil in which his affairs were involved. Justine induced Crawley to remain away from the farm during Jud's stay, an undertaking which required some force of persuasion. Crawley wanted to make peace with Jud and to assure him of his good faith; he begged her to let him apologize to his old adversary and ask him to shake hands and say quits. But she knew that Jud would not understand and that there could be no forgiveness. Never in her life had she loved Jud as in these days when she was disobeying and deceiving him. While she knew that 'Gene was no longer the brute and the blackguard of old, she saw that her husband could look upon him only as he had known him. The farm was bound to do well this year and she was happy to give Jud that assurance. Once he caught her looking wistfully at him when he was telling of expected triumphs in the city. He knew that she was hoping he would say that she could soon go with him to the city, leaving the farm to care for itself. But how could he take her there now? He groaned with the shame of it. A week of sleepless nights followed this visit to Clay township. The young artist's work on the paper suffered and his fellows advised him to take a rest. He had had no vacation since taking the position many months before. But it was not overwork that told on him; it was the lying awake of nights striving to find a way out of his predicament without losing the respect of all these friends, especially that of one whom he admired so deeply. He had permitted her to believe him free and had behaved as a free man behaves to such an extent that explanations were impossible. To tell her the truth concerning the man she had gone to the theatre with, had lunched with in downtown restaurants, had entertained in her own home almost to the exclusion of others, could bring but one end--the scorn and detestation he deserved. Poor Converse had given up the conflict in despair, but, good fellow that he was, held no grudge against Sherrod, for whom he had genuine admiration. They were lunching together a week or two after his trying trip to Clay township, and Jud was so moody that Converse took note of it. As they sat at the table, Converse mentally observed that his friend was growing handsomer every day; the moods improved him. After a long silence, the artist said: "I had an offer to-day to do some book illustrating for a publishing house." "Good! That's the stuff! Book pictures will be your line, old man. Will you accept?"