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She put out her hand. 'I'm sorry, Richard.' She said it so simply and with such significance that his anger melted, and he half felt that he was defeated once more. Then his stubborn pugnacity whelmed the feeling. He grasped her extended hand.

'Give them my regards, please, and tell them that. We'll see.'

Smiling a little at his grimness, the tall woman murmured:

'I'm sure they'll be glad to see you again. They have so few visitors, and they remember you, of course. Father was asking why you hadn't seen him the last time you were here.'

'I look at the whole thing differently now,' he declared again. 'I must see them both regardless of any kind interest they may have in me.'

Ada Lethen became grave. 'Richard, you mustn't look at it in that way. There's nothing to get angry about, nothing to be done.' She looked at him with steadfast, upraised eyes.

'That remains to be seen, and will be seen. Good night, Ada.'

Smiling a little, she stood on the veranda and watched him quickly swallowed in the gloom of the night, his footsteps muffled by the grass and pine needles, by the wind roaring above him, wrapping him with huge tatters in the road.