Cally said unsteadily: "I know that's true...."
She wished to go on; but the Director was speaking again, hurriedly:
"And you mustn't think that a blow on the head can bring it all to an end. If I know anything, his story will be often told. People that you and I will never know, will know of this, and it will help them--when their pinch comes. There's no measuring the value of a great example. When it strikes, you can feel the whole line lift...."
And then he added, in a let-down sort of way: "Freest man I ever saw."
There was no reply to make to these things. They went down the stairs together. Halfway down, the man spoke again:
"In the little while I've been here, I've seen and heard a great deal. Some day you must let me tell you--how much there is down here to keep his memory green."
The stairs were long. A kind of terror was growing within her. She would go to pieces before she reached the bottom. But that peril passed; and very near now was the waiting car, and merciful shelter....
They crossed, amid springing memories, the old court where, one rainy afternoon, there had happened what had turned her life thenceforward. Then they were safely through the door, and came out upon the portico, into the last light of the dying afternoon. And here, above all else that she felt, she encountered a dim surprise.
When she had passed this way a little while before, it was as if all power of feeling had been frozen in her. Sights and sounds were not for her. So now the sudden spectacle that met her eyes came as a large vague confusion.
The shabby street was black with people.