"Why didn't I accept food and warmth and raiment and lodging from a generous and harebrained young man? I'll tell you now, if you wish. It was because my conscience forbade me to accept all and offer nothing in return."
"I know you didn't. But I couldn't give, so I wouldn't take. Besides, we were together too much. I knew it. I think even you began to realise it, too. The situation was impossible. So I went on the road."
"You never answered any of those letters of mine."
"Mentally I answered every one."
"A lot of good that did me!"
"It did us both a lot of good. I meant to write to you some day—when my life had become busy enough to make it difficult for me to find time to write."
He looked up at her sharply, and she laughed and swung her muff.
"I suppose," he said, "now that the town talks about you a little, you will have no time to waste on mere Johnnies."
"Well, I don't know. When a mere Johnnie is also a Jack, it makes a difference—doesn't it? Do you think that you would care to see me again?"