A face limned on his memory.
Those damning words of his father's had been a shock--how little or great he could not tell.

Was it only a day since he had met Ellen Jorth?
What had made all the difference?
Suddenly like a breath the fragrance of her hair came back to him.

Then the sweet coolness of her lips! Jean trembled.

He looked around him as if he were pursued or surrounded by eyes, by instincts, by fears, by incomprehensible things.
"Ahuh! That must be what ails me," he muttered.

"The look of her--an' that kiss--they've gone hard me.