he classroom quietly, conscious that we had been brushed by the
wing of a great feeling, though perhaps I alone knew Cleric intimately
enough to guess what that feeling was. In the evening, as I sat staring
at my book, the fervour of his voice stirred through the quantities on
the page before me. I was wondering whether that particular rocky strip
of New England coast about which he had so often told me was Cleric's
patria. Before I had got far with my reading, I was disturbed by a
knock. I hurried to the door and when I opened it saw a woman standing
in the dark hall.

'I expect you hardly know me, Jim.'

The voice seemed familiar, but I did not recognize her until she stepped
into the light of my doorway and I beheld--Lena Lingard! She was so
quietly conventionalized by city clothes that I might have passed her
on the street without seeing her. Her black suit fitted her figure
smoothly, and a black lace hat, with pale-blue forget-me-nots, sat
demurely on her yellow hair.

I led her toward Cleric's chair, the only comfortable one I had,
questioning her confusedly.

She was not disconcerted by my embarrassment. She looked about her with
the naive curiosity I remembered so well. 'You are quite comfortable
here, aren't you? I live in Lincoln now, too, Jim. I'm in business for
myself. I have a dressmaking shop in the Raleigh Block, out on O Street.
I've made a real good start.'

'But, Lena, when did you come?'

'Oh, I've been here all winter. Didn't your grandmother ever write you?
I've thought about looking you up lots of times. But we've all heard
what a studious young man you've got to be, and I felt bashful. I didn't
know whether you'd be glad to see me.' She laughed her mellow, easy
laugh, that was either very artless or very comprehending, one never
quite knew which. 'You seem the same, though--except you're a young man,
now, of course. Do you think I've changed?'

'Maybe you're prettier--though you were always pretty enough. Perhaps
it's your clothes that make a difference.'

'You like my new suit? I have to dress pretty well in my business.'

She took off her jacket and sat more at ease in her blouse, of some
soft, flimsy silk. She was already at home in my place, had slipped
quietly into it, as she did into everything. She told me her business
was going well, and she had saved a little money.

'This summer I'm going to build the house for mother I've talked about
so long. I won't be able to pay up on i