``Selma knows that I care. I told her the night of the riot.''

``Good-by,'' said Victor in a tone she thought it wise not to
dispute.

``I'll be in the woods above the park at ten tomorrow,'' she
said in an undertone. Then to Selma, unsmilingly: ``You're not
interrupting. I'm going.'' Selma advanced. The two girls
looked frank hostility into each other's eyes. Jane did not try
to shake hands with her. With a nod and a forced smile of
conventional friendliness upon her lips, she passed her and went
through the house and into the street.

She lingered at the gate, opening and closing it in a most
leisurely fashion--a significantly different exit from her
furtive and ashamed entrance. Love and revolt were running high
and hot in her veins. She longed openly to defy the world--her
world.



VII


Impulse was the dominant strain in Selma Gordon's
character--impulse and frankness. But she was afraid of Victor
Dorn as we all are afraid of those we deeply respect--those whose
respect is the mainstay of our self-confidence. She was moving
toward him to pour out the violence that was raging in her on the