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 there on the corner, they made conversation for a time—silly, banal conversation—when each of them wanted to talk in earnest to the other.

At last Philip said, "Are you in a hurry? Could I come home with you?"

"No, I'm not in a hurry. I've left the children with Rachel . . . Rachel is my sister-in-law. We share expenses on the house. But I don't think we better go home. Are you tired?" she asked abruptly.

"No."

"Because if you aren't, we might go for a walk. I was afraid you might be, after working all night at the Mills."

For a moment Philip looked at her sharply. "How did you know I was in the Mills?"

She laughed. "Krylenko told me. I saw him yesterday. He was helping Irene teach English to a lot of dirty and very stupid Poles."

"He's a nice fellow—Krylenko. I didn't know there were such men down there."

"Nobody knows it without going down there. Shall we walk a bit?"

They set out along Milburn Street, past the row of houses surrounded by green leaves and bright trees. It was the hill farthest from the Mills and the soot seldom drifted so far. As they drew nearer and nearer to the open fields, the queer sense of restraint began a little to melt away. They even laughed naturally as they had done years before when they had played together.

"It was a funny thing," said Philip. "I've been wanting to see you ever since I came back. That's why I came out here this afternoon—on a chance of meet-