way, going toward the town. Zoe motioned to me to walk
the way I had come. I did so; loitered and returned. Zoe was now alone.
I sat down beside her; Zoe took my hand.

My first thought was who was the man. Zoe proceeded to tell me that she
was working as a domestic, that this man was a voice teacher who had
recently arrived in Chicago from New York. I looked at Zoe, as if to ask
her what was the nature of the intimacy that would lead her into this
association at night in this secluded place by the lake. I followed this
by asking: "Are you very good friends?" "He is kind to me," Zoe said.
"He teaches me and we walk out together and talk."

Well, were there not then the usual consequences? Zoe was remarkably
beautiful; Zoe's morale had been broken by a terrible experience. She
had gone through the disintegration natural to my own difficulties, of
which she was the occasion; the killing of Lamborn, the whole condition
at Jacksonville. And now, what was Zoe? I could not penetrate her
reserve. She stroked my hands affectionately. The tears started from her
eyes.

I changed the key by bringing up her interests. "Reverdy is your
guardian and I am putting your property in his hands. Don't you need
money? Why haven't you sent for money?" "Because," Zoe answered, "I
meant to go out of your life, and stay out of your life. Now that you
have found me it does not matter. All I could do would be to run off
again. But why? This is a wonderful place. I love the excitement, the
stir here. And I am in no danger here from being kidnapped. I don't want
to go into the country again. I will be all right, James, be sure. But
if you want to send me some money I will be glad. Only don't come for
me; don't have me known in your life again. I am out of it now. You
can't do for me what you could if I was white. Why try? Facts are just
what they are. I will be all right here. I am learning to sing. Mr.
Fortescue says that I have a voice. That's his name. He is a good man,
you can be sure." "He loves you?" I interrupted. Zoe did not answer. "He
wants to marry you?" I said, half interrogatively. "I don't believe I am
made for marriage," said Zoe. "Where do you work?" I asked.

Zoe was silent for some seconds, as if thinking. I repeated the
question. "Don't ask me that, Mr. James, don't," she said. "I know where
you are, I know where to find you. And if you need me I will come to you
if I can; but don't ask me where I am." "How can I send you mone