Woodell was of the kind who, if religious at all, believe without much reasoning, but Harlson had repeated to him the reasoning of the Hindoo skeptic.
Woodell had at least intelligence enough to follow the line of thought, and, in after time, when he was a family man and deacon, the lines would recur to vex him sorely.
And Jenny did not pine away and die because she saw little more of Harlson.

He met her and explained briefly that they had been doing wrong, and that he and Woodell had talked.

She turned pale, then red, but said little.

Of the struggle in the night Jenny never learned.
She inferred, of course, that her lover had gone in a straightforward way to Harlson, and that his demands had been acceded to.

She was gratified, perhaps, that she had become a person of much importance.
She thought more of Woodell and less of Harlson, because of the issue of the debate, as she understood it, and, when the first pique and passion were over, became resigned enough to the outlook.