Jeff always loved now to be with Melanctha and yet he always hated to go to her.  Somehow he was always afraid when he was to go to her, and yet he had made himself very certain that here he would not be a coward.  He never felt any of this being afraid, when he was with her.  Then they always were very true, and near to one another.  But always when he was going to her, Jeff would like anything that could happen that would keep him a little longer from her.

It was a very uncertain time, all these months, for Jeff Campbell.  He did not know very well what it was that he really wanted.  He was very certain that he did not know very well what it was that Melanctha wanted.  Jeff Campbell had always all his life loved to be with people, and he had loved all his life always to be thinking, but he was still only a great boy, was Jeff Campbell, and he had never before had any of this funny kind of feeling.  Now, this evening, when he was free to go and see Melanctha, he talked to anybody he could find who would detain him, and so it was very late when at last he came to the house where Melanctha was waiting to receive him.

Jeff came in to where Melanctha was waiting for him, and he took off his hat and heavy coat, and then drew up a chair and sat down by the fire.  It was very cold that night, and Jeff sat there, and rubbed his hands and tried to warm them.  He had only said “How do you do” to Melanctha, he had not yet begun to talk to her.  Melanctha sat there, by the fire, very quiet.  The heat gave a pretty pink glow to her pale yellow and attractive face.  Melanctha sat in a low chair, her hands, with their long, fluttering fingers, always ready to show her strong feeling, were lying quiet in her lap.  Melanctha was very tired with her waiting for Jeff Campbell.  She sat there very quiet and just watching.  Jeff was a robust, dark, healthy, cheery negro.  His hands were firm and kindly and unimpassioned.  He touched women always with his big hands, like a brother.  He always had a warm broad glow, like southern sunshine.  He never had anything mysterious in him.  He was open, he was pleasant, he was cheery, and always he wanted, as Melanctha once had wanted, always now he too wanted really to understand.

Jeff sat there this evening in his chair and was silent a long time, warming himself with the pleasant fire.  He did not look at Melanctha who was watching.  He sat there and just looked into the fire.  At first his dark, open face was smiling, and he was rubbing the back of his black-brown hand over his mouth to help him in his smiling.  Then he was thinking, and he frowned and rubbed his head hard, to help him in his thinking.  Then he smiled again, but now his smiling was not very pleasant.  His smile was now wavering on the edge of scorning.  His smile changed more and more, and then he had a look as if he were deeply down, all disgusted.  Now his face was darker, and he was bitter in his smiling, and he began, without looking from the fire, to talk to Melanctha, who was now very tense with her watching.