In her room at the settlement, Jean walked up and down, her hands gripped behind her in the old habit. Twice Mary came to the door and listened to the even stride, and went back to her book and tried to read. It was close on one o'clock when the door opened and Jean came in. Instinctively, Mary rose as if to meet a crisis. At the movement, Jean laid her hands on the doctor's shoulders and forced her gently down. Then, just as she had done on the night she had left The Kitten standing by the greasy table, and on the night when she had told Mary of her desire for a child of Gregory's, Jean dropped to her knees, and, sitting back on her heels, said quietly:
"Mary, I'm going back to New York just as fast as a train will take me. I'm a weak, cowardly idiot."
"Really? I don't know that I would put it quite so strongly myself."
Jean smiled. "That's not strong enough, Mary, not by half."
"Maybe not. But why this sudden realization?"
"I had tea with Franklin this afternoon."
"Well?"
"Poor Boy Blue! Poor, weak, vain, longing Begee!"
"Jean!" Mary gripped her shoulders. "What fool thing are you contemplating now? You're not going to tow That back East, are you?"
"Good Lord, no!" Jean laughed as Mary had not heard her laugh since her arrival. There was a silence so long that the doctor drifted down a dozen false paths of conjecture before Jean said: