He sat by her side, fingering some of the things in her work basket.

Once she held out her hand and seemed to find comfort in his clasp.

He raised her fingers to his lips without any protest from her.

She looked at him with a little smile.
"You know, I'm not at all an Ibsen heroine," she declared.

"I can't see my way like those wonderful emancipated women." "Yet," he said thoughtfully, "the way to the simple things is so clear." Confidences were at an end for a time, broken up by the entrance of Nora and Helen, and some young men from the Depot, who had looked in for a game of billiards.