The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. The proa bore away to the northwest out of which it had come. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket.
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