“Yes,” said Evans, “rotten.”
“I think,” said Mrs. Follette, “that you must both see it is best.” Yet her voice was troubled. Through her complacency had penetrated the thought of what Jane’s engagement might mean to Evans. Yet, it might, on the other hand, be a blessing in disguise. There were other women, richer—who would help him in his career. And in time he would forget Jane.
Old Mary gave them their coffee. “Shall we walk for a bit, Baldy?” Evans said, when at last they rose.
The two men made their way towards the pine grove. The twilight sky was a deep purple with a thin sickle of a moon and a breathless star.
And there in the little grove under the purple sky Evans said to Baldy, “I love her.”
“I know. I wish to God you had her.”
“Perhaps she has chosen wisely. Towne can make things—easy.”
“But you should hear what Edith says about him. He’s an old grouch around the house. And you know Janey? Like a bird—singing.”
Like a bird singing!
“Baldy,” Evans said, “I don’t agree with you that it was—the money. That may have helped in her decision. But I think she cares——”