"It's only his manner!--he's always so mortally afraid that people aren't in earnest. I'm certain he could find--ah--suitable and congenial work, if you--you cared to give him another chance. And I'm certain you'd like him, when you knew him a little better." "You like him?" "I put him above any man I know, except only Mr. Dayne." The tall electric light four doors below, which so irritated the Heths when they sat on their flowered balcony on summer nights, shone now full upon the old family enemy. It was observed that he wore, with his new blue suit, a quaint sprigged waistcoat which looked as if it also might have come down from his Uncle Armistead, along with the money he had given away. The old-fashioned vestment seemed to go well with the young man's face.... Cally stood upon the bottom step of the House, and drew her hand along the rail. It had occurred to her to tell him that she would probably go away to live; but now she only said, half-absently: "I might think about it, and let you know later." And then, as he accepted her tone as dismissal, and his hand started toward his hat, she spoke impulsively and hurriedly: "Tell me, is it your feeling that this matter--the Works--makes it necessary for us to--to go on quarreling?" The two stood looking at each other. And in each, in this moment, though in differing degree, the desire for harmoniousness was meeting the more intangible feeling that harmony between them seemed to involve surrender in another direction. "How could it be?" said the man. "It's what I've been trying to say. But I naturally supposed that you--" "I supposed so, too. It seems that I don't." She looked down at her hand upon the rail, and said: "Don't misunderstand me. Of course I think that papa is doing what is right. Of course I am on his side. I think your sympathy with the poor makes you extreme. But ... you asked me the other day to try to see your point of view. Well, I think I do see it now. People," said Cally, with a young dignity that became her well, "sometimes agree to disagree. I feel--now when we've quarreled so much--that I'd like to be friends." The tall young man looked hurriedly away, down the dusky street. In his mind were his articles, shooting about: his terrible articles, where surely nobody would find any gentleness to surprise them. They were the best thing he would ever do; precisely the thing he had always wanted to do. And yet--well he knew now that he had no joy in them.... "It's tremendously generous of you," he said, mechanically. Cally's eyes wavered from his face, and she answered: "No, I'm not generous."