d I--What! You're not going?"

"Yes, I'm going. I congratulate you, George. I am as glad as you are.
Good night."

"But Ros, I want to tell you about it. I want to thank you again. I
never shall forget . . . Ros, hold on!"

But I was already at the door. "Good night," I called again, and went
out. I went straight home, ate supper, spent a half hour with Mother,
and then went to my room and to bed. The excitement was over, for good
or bad the thing was done beyond recall, and I suddenly realized that I
was very tired. I fell asleep almost immediately and slept soundly until
morning. I was too tired even to think.

I had plenty of time to think during the fortnight which followed and
there was enough to think about. The lawyer came and the papers were
signed transferring to James W. Colton the strip of land over which
Denboro had excited itself for months. Each day I sat at my desk
expecting Captain Dean and a delegation of indignant citizens to rush in
and denounce me as a traitor and a turncoat. Every time Sam Wheeler met
me at my arrival at the bank I dreaded to look him in the face, fearing
that he had learned of my action and was waiting to question me about
it. In spite of all my boasts and solemn vows not to permit "Big Jim"
Colton to obtain the Shore Lane I had sold it to him; he could, and it
was to be expected that he would, close it at once; Denboro would make
its just demand upon me for explanations, explanations which, for George
and Nellie's sake, I could not give; and after that the deluge. I was
sitting over a powder mine and I braced myself for the explosion.

But hours and days passed and no explosion came. The fishcarts rattled
down the Lane without hindrance. Except for the little flurry of
excitement caused by the coming wedding at the Dean homestead the
village life moved on its lazy, uneventful jog. I could not understand
it. Why did Colton delay? He, whose one object in life was to have his
own way, had it once more. Now that he had it why didn't he make use of
it? Why was he holding back? Out of pity for me? I did not believe it.
Much more likely that his daughter, whose pride I had dared to offend,
had taken the affair in her hands and this agony of suspense was a
preliminary torture, a part of my punishment for presuming to act
contrary to her imperial will.

I saw her occasionally, although I tried my best not to do so. Once we
passed each other on the street and I stubbornly kept my head