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“I don’t think that any of us are quite free agents. We owe something to the community and to ourselves.”

“Well, it doesn’t make two-pennyworth of difference to you, anyhow.”

“Yes, it does,” she answered stoutly. “As long as you’re my friend, I want to be proud of your success in life.”

“Better not think of me one way or the other. If I’m going to the devil, as you seem to imagine, it’s my own affair entirely.” He got up. "It’s time we were getting back.”

“Yes,” said Ann cheerfully. “Perhaps it is.”

If he had hurt her by his abrupt termination of their talk together, she would not let him see it. She had bared her heart sufficiently to him. She would hide it in future. So, as they walked back side by side, she chatted quite naturally about her business, Nigger’s chances for the Autumn Meeting, and the polo tournament in Hawkeston. Then, at her door, she wished him good night, in a friendly matter-of-fact tone, and told him she had enjoyed the walk very much.

But she stuffed a large pocket handkerchief under her pillow, and it was rather crushed and damp before she finally fell asleep. For she knew she had reached the last chapter of her own foolish romance, and that there could be no “happy ending.”