Farr climbed the fence where old Etienne was everlastingly raking.  The young man had not seen much of the old rack-tender for some weeks, and now he greeted Etienne rather curtly as he passed on his way to the tree.  But Etienne seemed to understand.

“Ah, I will not talk, m’sieu’.  I will not bodder you.  I hear how much you have work and run about, and you must be very tire.”

There was a crackle of autumn chill in the air, but Farr took off his hat and sat down and leaned his head against the tree.  He closed his eyes.  One might have thought that he wished to sleep.

When the rack-tender made his next turn toward the street he saw a woman at the fence, and as he peered she beckoned to him.  He went close and saw it was the pretty lady to whom he had told the story of Rosemarie.  She trembled as she clutched the top of the high fence, and when she spoke to him he understood that she was very near to tears.

“Is there not some way—­some gate by which I may come in?” she pleaded.

“That is not allow, ma’m’selle.  It is trespass.”

“But I want to speak—­to—­tell him—­We can talk over there beside the tree and will not be heard.  It is to Mr. Farr I wish to speak.  I saw him when he climbed the fence.”  She hurried her appeal with pitiful eagerness.

“Ah yes, I have one little gate for maself—­for my frien’—­for hees frien’, ma’m’selle.  I will break the rule.  You shall come in.”

She went softly and stood before Farr for some minutes before he opened his eyes.

Then he looked up and saw her and he did not speak.  He seemed to accept her presence as a natural matter.  She was clasping her hands tightly to steady herself.  His calm demeanor helped her.

“I don’t know why I came here,” she murmured.

“I know.  It’s because you are sorry for me.”

“But I followed you.  I dared to do that.  I don’t know why.  I haven’t the words—­I can’t explain.”

“I understand.  You wondered why I came away from the convention.  You want to ask me why.”

“Yes, that’s it.  I am interested in the fight.  I have left the office where so many bad things were planned.”

“I know.  It was good of you to warn me.”

“And now I am afraid you are in trouble.”

“I am.”

“But you have many good friends now, sir.”

“I fear they cannot help me.  When I left that hall I tried to tell you with my eyes that I was going away.”

“I—­I think I understood,” she stammered.  “It was wrong—­it was folly—­but I followed you without knowing why I did so.”

“I am glad you did.  I can say farewell to you here.”

“But you must not go away, Mr. Farr.  You are needed.”

“I am going because I can best help the work in that way.  If I stay here I may be the cause of great harm.”

“I cannot understand.”

“I do not want you to understand.”