While he felt himself agreeing with Betty Jo's view, he was wondering at himself that he could discuss the matter so calmly.

It was not that he no longer felt deeply the shame of this terrible thing that he had done; it was not that he had ceased to suffer the torment that had caused his emotional madness, which had found expression in his attempt to destroy his manuscript; it was only that this young woman somehow made it possible for him to retain his self-control, and instead of venting his emotions in violent and wholly useless expressions of regret, and self-condemnation, and in irrational, temperamental action, to consider coolly and sanely what he must do.

He was strangely possessed, too, of an instinctive certainty that Betty Jo knew exactly how he felt and exactly what she was doing.
While he was thinking these things, or, rather, feeling them, Betty Jo went to see how the manuscript was drying.

She returned to her seat on the rock presently, saying: "It is doing very nicely,--almost dry.

I think it will be done pretty soon.