I contrived to get out, “Good heavens!” with the proper astonishment.

“I told her that Van Coort didn’t strike me as being anything very extra.”

“Wouldn’t it have been wiser to—?”

“Oh, for myself, I’d do anything in the world for her.  But a fellow has to show a little decent pride.  A fellow owes something to his family, doesn’t he?  As a man I love the ground she walks on; as a Jones—­well, if she feels like that about it—­I told her she had better wait for a De Montmorency.”

“But she didn’t say she wouldn’t marry you, did she?”

“N-o-o-o!”

“She didn’t ask you to change your name, did she?”

“N-o-o-o!”

“And do you mean to say that just for one unfortunate remark—­a remark that any one might have made in the agitation of the moment—­you’re deliberately turning your back on her, and her broken heart!”

“Oh, she’s red-hot, too, you know, over what I said about the Van Coorts.”

“She couldn’t have realized that you belonged to the Connecticut Joneses.  I didn’t know it!”

“Well, it’s all off now,” he said.

It was a mile to the depot.  For Jones it was a mile of reproaches, scoldings, lectures and insults.  For myself I shall ever remember it as the mile of my life.  I pleaded, argued, extenuated and explained.  My lifelong happiness—­Freddy —­the Seventy-second Street house—­were walking away from me in the dark while I jerked unavailingly at Jones’ coat-tails.  The whole outfit disappeared into a car, leaving me on the platform with the ashes of my hopes.  Of all obstinate, mulish, pig headed, copper-riveted—­

I was lucky enough to find Eleanor crying softly to herself in a corner of the veranda.  The sight of her tears revived my fainting courage.  I thought of Bruce and the spider, and waded in.

“Eleanor,” I said, “I’ve just been seeing poor Jones off.”

She sobbed out something to the effect that she didn’t care.

“No, you can’t care very much,” I said, “or you wouldn’t send a man like that—­a splendid fellow—­a member of one of the oldest and proudest families of Connecticut to his death.”

“Death?”

“Well, he’s off for Japan to-morrow.  They’re getting through fifty doctors a week out there at the front.  They’re shot down faster than they can set them up.”

I was unprepared for the effect of this on Eleanor.  For two cents she would have fainted then and there.  It’s awful to hear a woman moan, and clench her teeth, and pant for breath.

“Oh, Eleanor, can’t you do anything?”

“I am helpless, Ezra.  My pride—­my woman’s pride”

“Oh, how can you let such trifles stand between you?  Think of him out there, in his tattered Japanese uniform—­so far from home, so lonely, so heartbroken—­standing undaunted in that rain of steel, while—­”

“Oh, Ezra, stop!  I can’t bear it!  I can’t bear it!”