into unwonted fantasy, the heart to
new, unguessed possibilities. For that night established values, life-long
habits, negations, prudence, were set at naught.

Gordon wondered whether Meta Beggs would be there? He would like to be
with her at a sap-boiling, in the sooty shadows. With the necklace of
seed pearls in his pocket he walked over the street revolving in his mind
the problem of asking her to accompany him. He could not hope to hide it
from Lettice; and, to-day, he had recognized a note of finality in his
wife's voice with regard to the school-teacher. If he went with Meta Beggs
serious trouble would ensue in his home ... he wished to avoid any actual
outbreak with Lettice. He remembered, tardily, her condition; it would be
dangerous for her. He might, conceivably, at some time or another, go
away; even to Paris--yet, at that latter thought, the wish, almost the
necessity, of a return lingered at the back of his brain--but he would not
goad her into an explosion of misery and temper. He acknowledged to
himself, with a faint glow of pride, that he was not anxious to encounter
Lettice Makimmon's full displeasure; she possessed the capability of
tenacity, an iron-like resolve, inherited from old Pompey.

In the outcome his difficulty was unexpectedly solved for him--a large
farm wagon, with boards temporarily laid from side to side, was to convey
a quantity of people, and among them Meta Beggs, from the village to the
sap-boiling. He learned this from the idlers before the _Bugle_ office.
Sitting with his chair canted against that dingy wooden facade he thought
of the school-teacher and the coming night. It was late afternoon of the
day on which he had bought the necklace. The small package still rested in
his pocket. It had been his intention to give the pearls to Meta Beggs
before he returned to his home, but no opportunity had offered. After
school she had passed the seated row of men, uneasily stirring their hats
in response to her collected greeting; and, with Mrs. Peterman, gone into
the body of the hotel. Gordon could not follow her. Anyhow, the
presentation could be made with better effect in the obscurity of the
maples to-morrow night ... her gratitude could have fuller sweep.

He made his way finally, reluctantly, home. There, alone in the bedroom,
he swiftly withdrew the necklace from its pasteboard box, and dropped it
into the pocket of a coat hanging in the curtained wardrobe. It was, he
noted, the c