“I heard him whistle one night, and I slid down the big tree near my window. Then he came one morning to bring me flowers. I am glad he is coming for keeps. He livens things up, Jo does.”
“Why did neither you nor he speak of your having met?”
“I begged him not to, because I felt that you wouldn’t approve.”
An intense silence followed.
“Do you think,” he asked bitterly, “that you are fair to Jo—”
“To Jo?” she asked in surprise. “I don’t understand.”
“You do understand. Jo told me what he asked you in Chicago and how you left him—to reform—to be worthy of his love.”
“I haven’t deceived Jo,” she replied slowly. “I told him where you found me and why. He doesn’t care. He understands. Jo loves—”
The pause that followed was so prolonged that she stole another side-glance. She had a sudden, swift insight into the power and vigor of the man—the inner man.
“That the girl he loves,” she continued softly, “is a thief, makes no difference to Jo.”