ifficult to act; but now,
since the flash of the imminent tragedy at Cresswell Oaks had cleared
the air, with all its hurt a frank understanding had been made possible.
The very next day Zora chose to show Bles over her new home and grounds,
and to speak frankly to him. They looked at the land, examined the
proposed farm sites, and viewed the living-room and dormitory in the
house.

"You haven't seen my den," said Zora.

"No."

"Miss Smith is in there now; she often hides there. Come."

He went into the large central house and into the living-room, then out
on the porch, beyond which lay the kitchen. But to the left, and at the
end of the porch, was a small building. It was ceiled in dark yellow
pine, with figured denim on the walls. A straight desk of rough hewn
wood stood in the corner by the white-curtained window, and a couch and
two large easy-chairs faced a tall narrow fireplace of uneven stone. A
thick green rag-carpet covered the floor; a few pictures were on the
walls--a Madonna, a scene of mad careering horses, and some sad baby
faces. The room was a unity; things fitted together as if they belonged
together. It was restful and beautiful, from the cheerful pine blaze
before which Miss Smith was sitting, to the square-paned window that let
in the crimson rays of gathering night. All round the room, stopping
only at the fireplace, ran low shelves of the same yellow pine, filled
with books and magazines. He scanned curiously Plato's Republic, Gorky's
"Comrades," a Cyclopaedia of Agriculture, Balzac's novels, Spencer's
"First Principles," Tennyson's Poems.

"This is my university," Zora explained, smiling at his interested
survey. They went out again and wandered down near the old lagoon.

"Now, Bles," she began, "since we understand each other, can we not work
together as good friends?" She spoke simply and frankly, without
apparent effort, and talked on at length of her work and vision.

Somehow he could not understand. His mental attitude toward Zora had
always been one of guidance, guardianship, and instruction. He had been
judging and weighing her from on high, looking down upon her with
thoughts of uplift and development. Always he had been holding her dark
little hands to lead her out of the swamp of life, and always, when in
senseless anger he had half forgotten and deserted her, this vision of
elder brotherhood had still remained. Now this attitude was being
revolutionized. She was proposing to hi