His comfortable grin answered her. "Both kinds."
"You'll be sorry to leave Adamsville?"
"The iron-hearted city.... Sorry—and glad, too. It's one of the finest places in America—to leave."
Her nostrils wrinkled with the old-time intimate charm. "You have deteriorated."
"What could you expect, with myself as my only audience?"
Then he regretted leaving the way open for reference to another auditor; but, after a noncommittal scrutiny, she did not pursue that topic.
"And then," Pelham continued hurriedly, "we're not leaving it forever. We'll return for another round with the triumphant malefactors."
"You think there's a chance?" Her question was from the heart.
"The South is twoscore years behind the rest of the country. We were premature.... But the South can't lag forever. Even the dreadful war will quicken intellects everywhere; every day's headlines mention 'socialism,' where it was never heard of three years ago. If we are wise—as we weren't in '61—it may come sensibly; if not, God help my respected father, and the rest of the monied vultures, in that day!
"I remember my first view of the city—the furnaces, and the coke ovens; it looked like the pit of hell to me.... Well——"