Will stepped up on the porch, and they saw that he was smiling. He held out his hand. “I’m sorry I--butted in,” he apologized. “But I’m glad I was the first to know. You’ll never be sorry, Annie. Homer....” Homer had gripped his hand; each held the other fast, as good friends will. He stayed only a minute, then left them alone together; and he left no shadow of sorrow for him to cloud their hour of happiness. V Will Matthews had a practical and straightforward habit of thought; he possessed what men call a level head. He was not given to illusions; and through that long night he faced facts squarely and without self-deception. He had time to weigh many matters, for he did not sleep at all. Time to fight off the first and crushing grief, time to understand fully and beyond changing that he could never love any girl but Annie. He meant that Annie should never know how deeply he had cared, would always care. He could spare her this measure of unhappiness. There was a somber sort of pleasure in planning thus to serve her. Thus and in other fashions.... Do what he could to make her happy as might be.... His thoughts went racing on a half-seen road. Will was not a heroic figure. Rather a small man, with light hair and a round and amiable countenance, there was nothing about him to arrest the eye. He already wore glasses; his shoulders were already faintly stooped from too close companionship with the ledgers where lay his daily toil. His mother made him wear a strip of oily, red flannel about his throat when he had taken cold. All in all, a man at whom you were like to smile. But--hear what Will did, and try then if you’re moved to smile. He made it his business to reach the office next morning some five minutes ahead of the hour. It was chance, a chance that favored what he meant to do, which made Homer Dean ten minutes late. Old Jasper was there before Will; and Will found on his desk a memorandum, commanding him to come at once to Jasper’s office. He read this memorandum slowly, considering once more the details of his plan. None of the other bookkeepers had yet arrived; he was alone. Jasper was in his office at the end of the corridor, a few yards away. After a moment Will went out into this corridor and turned toward Jasper’s door. Outside this door he hesitated, and one hand fumbled at his throat, then dropped to the pocket at his side. From within the office he heard old Jasper’s rumbling cough; and he knocked upon the panel. Jasper called: “Come in.” Will obeyed. He pushed the door open, stepped slowly inside, and thrust it shut behind him. He did not slam the door; nevertheless the impact was sufficient to make Old Jasper grimace with distaste, and clap his hands to his ears. Will stood still, waiting for the other to speak; and his employer barked: “What’s the matter with you, anyway? Come here?”