He again examined his countenance in the mirror, but now he was
surprised that it was not haggard with age. It seemed that twenty more
years had been added to him since supper. He wondered whether there had
ever been another man who had lost his love twice and saw that he had
been a blind fool for not speaking in the June dusk when Lucy had come
back from school.

Lucy, it developed, had spoken to Ettie, and there was a general
discussion of her affair at breakfast.

Calvin carried away from it a persistent feeling of dissatisfaction,
but for this he could find no tangible reason. Of course, he silently
argued, the girl could not be expected to show her love for Wilmer
publicly; it was enough that he had been assured of its strength; the
fact of her agreement to marry him was final.

He went about his daily activities with a heavy absent-mindedness, with
a dragging spirit. A man was coming from Washington to see him in the
interest of a new practically permanent fencing, and he met him at the
post-office, listened to a loud cheerful greeting with marked
inattention.

The salesman was named Martin Eckles, and he was fashionably dressed in
a suit of shepherd's check bound with braid, and had a flashing ring--a
broad gold band set with a mystic symbol in rubies and diamonds. After
his supper at the hotel he walked, following Calvin's direction, the
short distance to the latter's house, where Calvin and Ettie Stammark
and Lucy were seated on the porch.

Martin Eckles, it developed, was a fluent and persuasive talker, a man