He came out to see me, and we drank his health and fortune. It was on
this occasion that Douglas talked to me with the greatest freedom about
my own affairs. His frankness and sincerity, his friendship for me,
relieved this broaching of my intimate interests of intrusiveness. I
felt no inclination to resent it. He had glanced at Zoe who had come
into the room once or twice, remarking that she was an unusual young
woman. Then he said: "Your father must have been much of a man. I think
his marriage worked upon his feelings ... and Zoe. Don't let this get on
your imagination. You are handling it in the right way ... just go on.
Let me warn you. The McCall gang is a desperate one. Do not on any
account come to an issue with them. There are too many of them. They
will sneak up upon you. They carry grudges ... and another thing,
there's Lamborn ... as bad as the McCalls. He's been talking too, making
threats against you. I tell you this for your own good. He has been
boasting of Zoe's interest in him ... to speak euphemistically of the
matter ... but just be careful." Whatever else he had in his mind he
communicated it to me by the look of his speaking eyes, keen and blue.
Then he arose and went.

Dorothy had returned to Nashville for the winter. She expected to take
her place again in Reverdy's household in the spring. And we were
writing. I had thought of proposing marriage to her the night before she
left. But I could not bring myself to do so. I needed some one in my
life. But I was just twenty, and Dorothy seemed so much more mature and
wise than I. Then always there was this matter of Zoe. I lived in the
expectation that something would come out of Zoe's misfortune; and if it
did my name was bound to be connected with it. What would Dorothy say if
in the midst of our engagement, if she engaged herself to me, the word
should be brought to her that I was the father of Zoe's aborted child