“Things are looking so differently to me,” he said, one of the first days.  “It makes me think of the American soldiers I met the first time afield—­the time I met Bedient.  I praised the officers for their own home papers.  They looked so big and thrilling to me, as men.  It was easy.  I remember riding with a cavalry leader one rough day—­a long day.  He was hard and still with courage.  He rolled a hundred cigarettes that day.  I thought him the genius of an officer.  Then I saw him afterward over here.  It was the same with others.  They seemed to have left their glory out there among the swamps and the hills....  It’s the same way with the things I thought before Bedient came....  I can see your things a lot better.”

It was true, he could.  Vina had noted that.  He could sense her atmosphere, and divine her intents.  Formerly, he had taken the word of the others that she had power for her work....  Almost every afternoon now he tapped at her door.  Entering, he would take a seat by the fire-frame, stare a bit at the city or the tower, or move about behind her, regarding the freshly done work; and presently they would find themselves talking.  It was because David Cairns, as a lover, was out of the question from her point of view in the first days, that such a splendid companionship was established.  He did not know that a woman could be such a companion; and her unconsciousness of his deeper quest, gave her an ease with him, that was one of the secrets of her great and growing charm.

Heretofore, all feminine aspirants for Cairns’ admiration had ranged themselves in his mind against the paragon, Beth Truba (with whom he had long comported himself with a rueful might-have-been manner, both pretty and pleasant).  Beth had easily transcended.  Whatever was great and desirable in woman was likely to wear a Beth Truba hall-mark for his observation.  Now, that was changed, not that Beth suffered eclipse, nor that his admiration abated; indeed, his gratefulness for that word of Beth’s at just the proper moment, which had caused him gallantly to take the road of Vina Nettleton, was a rare study; but another had risen, not of Beth, but of more intimate meaning to the man, David Cairns.  Beth’s great force of feminine energy and aspiration, he had been unable to attract.  Beth had demanded more than virtue from him, and at a time when he was not finished enough to answer her many restless dreams.

Cairns and Vina Nettleton had in reality just met, and at one of the memorable crossings of eternity.  To each, the other had just been brought forth from a sumptuous shadow of nature.  In the brighter light they discerned each other.  Cairns was first to see, for he had been told, and he brought to the meeting all the fresh inspirations of his maturity, and they rested upon the solid values earned through a life of hard-held decency.

Among the May days there was one afternoon in which the conception of summer was in the air.  It was not the heat alone, but the stirring of the year’s tremendous energy everywhere, even under pavements.  The warmth of creation was kindly in old bones and old walls, and an imperious quickening in the elastic veins of youth.  Vina (half-way up a step-ladder) turned about and sat down on one of the steps.  Cairns had asked her what plans she had for the summer.