Virginia, aware that he was thinking of days long ago, when he had taken her to church and carried her books home from school, felt her breath coming short. She was trying hard, but if he would not meet her half-way, how could she patch it up? She averted her face, toying with her grandfather’s empty glass. The ice still jingled in it a little, and William started. He remembered jingling the ice in the glasses on the inn table, and Fanchon’s eyes seemed to mock him. He drew a long sigh. “I hope you don’t mind my sitting here, Virginia,” he said gravely. “It’s--it’s so homelike. I can’t bear to go. I suppose lost spirits hang around sometimes outside the gates of paradise.” Virginia caught her breath this time. She dared not look at him. She had taken a ring out of her pocket and held it out in the palm of her hand; but now, looking at his set profile, she hardly dared to speak of it. Her hand trembled; he was unhappy, and he had come to her! Something like fear showed in her eyes, but she forced herself to speak. “I wish you’d come in and see grandfather. He’d be glad, I know. We meant to come to see your wife again--some evening when you would be at home.” William lifted his head slowly and looked at her. “Virginia, I got the letters you sent me,” he said in a low voice. “The reason I didn’t return yours was--I burned them one night in Paris just before--” He stopped, unable to go on, red in the face; but she was quite calm. His very embarrassment steadied her. “That’s all right,” she said. “I’m glad you spoke, because I wanted to give you this.” She held out her hand with the ring in her palm. “I know it belonged to your grandmother. I was afraid to trust it to the mails. Here it is, William.” He held out his hand stiffly, without looking at her, and Virginia had to put the ring into it. “Thank you,” he said in a low voice. Then he looked in a dazed way at the ring lying in his hand. The color slowly receded from his flushed face and left it pale. He remembered the day he had put it on her finger! So did she; but Virginia was a brave woman. She could not help seeing his face, and, being a woman, she knew. She could shape the whole story easily now. She had heard rumors of Mr. Carter’s wrath at Fanchon’s dance, and she knew what William must have felt. The talk must have reached him. This was the recoil. She loved him, and she understood. It would have tempted another woman; it frightened Virginia. She tried to think of something to say, but she could not. They sat silently, the shade of the horse-chestnut stretching over them. Beyond them the sun shone on the old lawns and flower-beds. They were so motionless that a robin, searching for worms, came almost up to their feet. “Do you mind my sitting around here?” he asked again in a low voice. “It’s the most restful place I’ve found.” She steadied her voice. “It is a restful place. Once we thought we’d have to give it up, but some stocks paid in, and we saved it. I’m so glad!”