"Yes, I suppose so—and then it didn't seem fair to you—after all the talk."
"I was proud of you," she said, raising her head a little. She put out her hand again to his, leaving it in his for a long time, while they sat in silence. The touch that once had so disturbed him brought now only a gentle serenity. He thought of the other woman, and what might have been, with almost a hatred, the hatred of man towards whatever he wrongs.
"You are right about me," he said slowly. "Most people think I don't care what happens, that I'm sort of a thick-skinned rhinoceros. How did you know?"
"I knew."
She withdrew her hand slowly, without resistance on his part; only when he held it no longer he felt alone, abandoned to the blackness of the street outside.
"I've kept my promise to you, Jean," he said a little unsteadily, "but don't make it too hard."
She rose and he followed. Together they stood in the shadows of the embrasure, half seeing each other. Only he knew that her large eyes were looking out at him with the look of the woman that he had first called forth when he had wounded the pride of the girl.
"I am glad you didn't listen to me just now," she said slowly.
"When?"
"When you went upstairs to Dad. You will never weaken, I know." She came a little towards him, and understanding, he took her gently, wonderingly, in his arms. "It's going to be very hard for you," she said, "Tap Day—to stand there and know that you may be misjudged. I should be very proud to announce our engagement, then—that same day."