"Anyway, she was honest." Both shame and thrill possessed him at the recall of an insidious idea--dare he go back and find her and give her the last package of gifts he had brought from the city?
What might they mean to poor, ragged, untidy, beautiful Ellen Jorth?
The idea grew on Jean.
It could not be dispelled.

He resisted stubbornly.

It was bound to go to its fruition.

Deep into his mind had sunk an impression of her need--a material need that brought spirit and pride to abasement.

From one picture to another his memory wandered, from one speech and act of hers to another, choosing, selecting, casting aside, until clear and sharp as the stars shone the words, "Oh, I've been kissed before!" That stung him now.