"I'm not at all sure."

"You didn't think, yesterday afternoon," he
began, almost in a whisper,--" you didn't think that
I had failed to come because I--" He grew very
red, and shifted the sentence awkwardly: "I was
afraid you might think that I was--that I didn't
come because I might have been the same way
again that I was when--when I met you at the
station?"

"Oh no!" she answered, gently. "No. I knew
better."

"And do you know," he faltered, "that that is
all over? That it can never happen again?"

"Yes, I know it," she returned, quickly.

"Then you know a little of what I owe you."

"No, no," she protested.

"Yes," he said. "You've made that change in
me already. It wasn't hard--it won't be--though
it might have been if--if you hadn't come soon."

"Tell me something," she demanded. "If these
people had not sent for you yesterday, would you
have come to Judge Pike's house to see me? You