“I once tried to explain it, in a way,” he went on, hurriedly.  “I said that I didn’t know your father....  You naturally considered that merely a—­a foolish sort of—­claim—­explaining nothing.  I suppose you’ve forgotten all this, but—­”

“No, I remember.”

“Then let me say that—­the other day, when I saw you—­I had no idea of mentioning the Works to you, other than to explain my position—­not an idea....  And then, when we talked—­well, I did,” he said with a kind of naked ingenuousness, as if no one could have been more surprised about it all than he....  “I can’t explain it, so that it won’t still seem peculiar to you....  It’s only that I do feel somehow that—­that knowing people makes a great difference—­in certain respects....”

“I—­think I can understand that.”

“It’s generous of you to be willing to try.”

“No,” said Cally, pulling her veil down at the chin, and quickening her steps as he strode on, “I’m only trying to be—­reasonable about it.”

They were passing people now and then in the twilight street, most of whom Cally spoke to; and once she thought how surprised Hugo would be, could he look over from Washington and see her walking amiably in this company.  But then Hugo might have thought of these matters last year, when he said she wasn’t the girl he had asked to marry him.

“Besides,” said she, suddenly, “you don’t mean to say anything—­terribly bad about the Works in the articles—­do you?”

“Yes, terribly,” replied Mr. V.V., leaving her completely taken aback.

He added, formally, after a step or two:  “I—­ah—­shouldn’t feel honest if I left you in the slightest doubt—­on that point.”

But she could not believe now that his articles would be so terrible, no matter what he said, and her strange reply was: 

“Then—­suppose we don’t talk about it.”

He said:  “I feel it’s better so.”  And then they walked on rapidly in silence.

And somewhere in this silence, it came over Cally that the reason she could not distrust this man was because, in a very special way, she had learned to trust him; could not dislike him because the truth was that in her heart she liked him very much.  And people must act as they felt.  And then her thought suddenly advanced much further, as if mounting the last step in a watch-tower:  and Cally saw that the question between herself and V. Vivian had always been, not what she might think of him, but what he thought of her....

The fruitful pause ran rather long.  She considered complimenting Mr. V.V. upon his speech, expressing her surprise at his unlooked-for gentleness on the subject of the poor.  How could one who spoke so kindly write terrible articles in the newspapers, attacking one’s own father?  Cally wondered, missing the perfectly obvious point of it all, namely:  that when a man is a guest at a woman’s club, his particular task is to look sharp to his tongue, ruling with a strong hand what besetting weakness he may have for grim speech, and abhorring ...