"Then he ought to have made it. Anybody could teach those stodgy boys." Yet his own words came back to her, mingling with the water and the wind, and once more she gave assent. "That's just what he does not believe. Does a preacher think one soul of more value than another? And should a teacher? That is what he asks, my dear--and answers. And I am proud to call him my friend." She went to bed, to lie there cold and stiff, her thoughts hideously and mercifully formless, until at last, out of that mangled heap of indistinguishable things, sleep came to her as gently as a fallen feather. Morning brought her a letter from Morton, and her sores were healed. It was the letter she had wanted. It told her delicately something of what she seemed to him, and it revealed the aspirations of the man; it implied that they had been blown still higher by the bright strong breath of her spirit, and it satisfied the ancient hunger that, last night, had shrieked ravenously for food. No one else had ever claimed her for his inspiration, and as she put the letter in her breast, the action was like a gage flung down, though the name of her enemy was not cried. The next day, flowers came, and then another letter, and after a few more days, more flowers, and, lying among them, a little missive, telling Theresa that these but heralded his own approach. "Have you heard the news?" Neville said, when she entered the office that morning. "Which news?" "The L. P. is coming here again--arrives to-night." "Yes, I knew that." "Oh, then, good-bye, Theresa. If you are an accessory before the act, it's all over, but the old gentleman and I have been hoping against hope." "What hope?" she asked coldly, her hands on the back of her chair. "We don't want you to marry the L. P." "I have not been asked to marry him. Oh, how can you talk like this? I think you're vulgar!" Tears darted to her eyes. "And you spoke so beautifully about love!" She had betrayed herself, but he hid his knowledge. "I say--I'm sorry, Theresa. I only meant it as a joke. Silly fool! And beastly bad form, I know; but, really, we do live in dread of someone's stealing you, and we've made special plans for his abduction. You shouldn't make yourself so lovable, my dear." He was right when he said he understood men and women, for now she laughed brokenly, but with pleasure, and spoke forcibly in spite of her trembling lips. "I don't know why I should behave like this. Is it like me? Jack, is it like me?" "Not a bit! Yes--exactly," he added, and again she had to laugh. "And you've made me self-conscious and ridiculous!" "I promise I won't look when you meet." "Oh, Jack! Let's get to work. I do wish sometimes we were all one sex." Neville's promise was an unnecessary one, for Theresa did not see more than Morton's coat hanging in the hall until the second evening of his visit, when he called on her father.