at you mean, do I?"

"You don't--yet. But I hope you will be glad when you do. Jed,
you like Major Grover, don't you?"

Jed did not move perceptibly, but she heard his chair creak. He
was still leaning forward and she knew his gaze was fixed upon her
face.

"Yes," he said very slowly. "I like him first-rate."

"I'm glad. Because--well, because I have come to like him so much.
Jed, he--he has asked me to be his wife."

There was absolute stillness in the little room. Then, after what
seemed to her several long minutes, he spoke.

"Yes . . . yes, I see . . ." he said. "And you? You've . . ."

"At first I could not answer him. My brother's secret was in the
way and I could not tell him that. But last night--or this
morning--Charlie and I discussed all our affairs and he gave me
permission to tell--Leonard. So when he came to-day I told him.
He said it made no difference. And--and I am going to marry him,
Jed."

Jed's chair creaked again, but that was the only sound. Ruth
waited until she felt that she could wait no longer. Then she
stretched out a hand toward him in the dark.

"Oh, Jed," she cried, "aren't you going to say anything to me--
anything at all?"

She heard him draw a long breath. Then he spoke.

"Why--why, yes, of course," he said. "I--I--of course I am. I--
you kind of got me by surprise, that's all. . . . I hadn't--hadn't
expected it, you see."

"I know. Even Charlie was surprised. But you're glad, for my
sake, aren't you, Jed?"

"Eh? . . . Yes, oh, yes! I'm--I'm glad."

"I hope you are. If it were not for poor Charlie's going away and
the anxiety about him and his problem I should be very happy--
happier than I believed I ever could be again. You're glad of
that, aren't you, Jed?"

"Eh? . . . Yes, yes, of course. . . ."

"And you will congratulate me? You like Major Grover? Please say
you do."

Jed rose slowly from his chair. He passed a hand in dazed fashion
across his forehead.

"Yes," he said, again. "The major's a fine man. . . . I do
congratulate you, ma'am."

"Oh, Jed! Not that way. As if you meant it."

"Eh? . . . I--I do mean it. . . . I hope--I hope you'll be real
happy, both of you, ma'am."

"Oh, not that--Ruth."

"Yes--yes, sartin, of course . . . Ruth, I mean."

She left him standing by the writing table. After she had gone he
sank slowly down into the chair again. Eight o'clock struck and he
was still sitting there. . . . And