Could he tell Joan what now he knew: that when the few bills were paid and the estate balanced, there would be no money left for the year of study?
Perhaps Joan would marry him now--at once--to-morrow! And they could leave the farm together.

After all there was silver to his cloud.
Kenny brightened.
A preposterous notion of hers, that unfitness.

The memory of the sunset hour in the cabin came again to darken the silver lining of his cloud.

Joan's arms, Joan's voice, Joan's eyes had pleaded; it would make her happier to wait and study and watch his world before she came to it, his wife.
Kenny sighed.
It would make her--happier.

And the problem still was with him.
Kenny cursed the evil in the world that had forced men to convention.
If only he could help her! If only-- A car was coming up behind him with a familiar noise of rattle.