He let her go then, and again she leaned against the walk
“Good-by,” said he. “If you could bring yourself to share the real thrill with me, I could help you. But I'm not going to wear you out with this crude sex-duel stuff. Good-by.”
“Wait,” she said then. She moved over to the table, and fingered the photograph. He stood in the doorway and watched her. She was thinking—desperately thinking. He could see that. The flush was still on her temples and cheeks. Finally she straightened up and faced him.
“Jacob,” she said, “I can't let you go like that. This thing has got to be settled. Really settled.”
He slowly nodded.
“Give me till Saturday, Jacob. I promise you I'll try to think it all out. I'll go through with the pictures anyway—somehow. As for this photograph, go ahead. Use it. Only please don't commit yourself in a money way before I see you. Come to tea Saturday, at four. I'll either tell you finally that we are—-well, hardly to be friends beyond the rest of this job of ours, or I'll—I'll go along with you, Jacob.”
Her voice faltered over the last of this, but her eyes did not. And her chin was high.
“It's too bad,” said he. “But you're right. It isn't me. You've come to the point where you've got to find yourself.”
“That's it,” she said. “I've got to try to find out what I am. If my thoughts and feelings have been misleading me—well, maybe I am conventional—maybe I am little—”
Her voice broke. Her eyes filled. But she fought the tears back and still faced him.