“I’m sure I shall,” she replied.

Rolfe took from his pocket a little red button with the letters I.W.W. printed across it.  He pinned it, caressingly, on her coat.

“Now you are one of us!” he exclaimed.  “You’ll come to-morrow?”

“I’ll come to-morrow,” she repeated, drawing away from him a little.

“And—­we shall be friends?”

She nodded.  “I must go now, I think.”

“Addio!” he said.  “I shall look for you.  For the present I must remain here, with the Committee.”

When Janet reached Faber Street she halted on the corner of Stanley to stare into the window of the glorified drugstore.  But she gave no heed to the stationery, the cameras and candy displayed there, being in the emotional state that reduces to unreality objects of the commonplace, everyday world.  Presently, however, she became aware of a man standing beside her.

“Haven’t we met before?” he asked.  “Or—­can I be mistaken?”

Some oddly familiar quizzical note in his voice stirred, as she turned to him, a lapsed memory.  The hawklike yet benevolent and illuminating look he gave her recalled the man at Silliston whom she had thought a carpenter though he was dressed now in a warm suit of gray wool, and wore a white, low collar.

“In Silliston!” she exclaimed.  “Why—­what are you doing here?”

“Well—­this instant I was just looking at those notepapers, wondering which I should choose if I really had good taste.  But it’s very puzzling—­isn’t it?—­when one comes from the country.  Now that saffron with the rough edges is very—­artistic.  Don’t you think so?”

She looked at him and smiled, though his face was serious.

“You don’t really like it, yourself,” she informed him.

“Now you’re reflecting on my taste,” he declared.

“Oh no—­it’s because I saw the fence you were making.  Is it finished yet?”

“I put the last pineapple in place the day before Christmas.  Do you remember the pineapples?”

She nodded.  “And the house? and the garden?”

“Oh, those will never be finished.  I shouldn’t have anything more to do.”

“Is that—­all you do?” she asked.

“It’s more important than anything else.  But you have you been back to Silliston since I saw you?  I’ve been waiting for another call.”

“You haven’t even thought of me since,” she was moved to reply in the same spirit.

“Haven’t I?” he exclaimed.  “I wondered, when I came up here to Hampton, whether I mightn’t meet you—­and here you are!  Doesn’t that prove it?”

She laughed, somewhat surprised at the ease with which he had diverted her, drawn her out of the tense, emotional mood in which he had discovered her.  As before, he puzzled her, but the absence of any flirtatious suggestion in his talk gave her confidence.  He was just friendly.

“Sometimes I hoped I might see you in Hampton,” she ventured.