With this consciousness he remained standing in half indignant hesitation on the landing as she disappeared.

Why shouldn't he go?
It was true, he had half tacitly acquiesced in the reserve with which he had been treated, and had never mingled socially in the gatherings of either sex at Indian Spring--but that was no reason.

He could at least dress himself, walk to the Court-house and--look on.
Any black coat and white shirt was sufficiently de rigueur for Indian Spring.

Mr.Ford added the superfluous elegance of a forgotten white waistcoat.

When he reached the sidewalk it was only nine o'clock, but the windows of the Court-house were already flaring like a stranded steamer on the barren bank where it had struck.