Don Lane trotted off slowly, with long elastic stride, up on his toes, with his elbows tucked in and his chin high, filling his lungs as best he might with the hot and lifeless air. The sound of his footfalls passed down the street, and was lost as he turned at the further corner of the square.
"Good night, now," said Aurora Lane once more, as she and her companion approached her little gate.
But Hod Brooks did not turn away, although he made no attempt to enter. Instead he reached out a large hand impulsively and arrested hers as it would have pulled together the little crippled gate behind her. Still she did close the gate—until the sudden impact of his own weight snapped off its last remaining hinge. He picked it up carelessly and set it within the fence, himself leaning against the post, filling the gap, his hands back in his pockets.
"Aurora," said he, with a strange softness in his voice, "this seems to me almost like Providence."
"What do you mean?" she said. "I must go——"
"Please, not yet," said he. "Just think—how else could it have been possible for me to talk with you?"
"Without compromising yourself?" She smiled slowly and bitterly, but did not see the hot blood rise to his face.
"That's not right!" said he. "Without compromising you—that's what I meant. I only meant that there is no place where we well could meet. And I wanted to say something to you, at last—what sometime has got to be said between us."
"We both know everything now, so why talk?" said she. "It was fine of you today in the trial. We owe so much—we'll pay when we can."
The dull red in his face deepened. "You may stop that, if you please," said he. "It's not right between us. The showdown has come. Why not settle up, at last?"