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 And then, before she could call out, it had happened: his chest had struck the woman's shoulder with a terrible jar which nearly threw her from her feet, and at the same time he was flung back against the rail of the bridge, which he caught with both hands. The woman turned with a violent exclamation, and Marjorie saw her face and shuddered; for it was distorted with coarse anger and evil passion; but as she faced the man, suddenly something seemed to drop away from it; the anger all went out, the passion disappeared, and up into it welled tenderness and compassion and all of the sweetness of womanhood; her whole figure seemed to change and straighten and grow fair; and she took hold of the man's arm with gentle hands and tender, pitiful words, and led him from the bridge and up onto the smooth, grassy way beside the road, and put his hand on the top board of the fence, and patted him on the shoulder; and then went back to her friend.

At first Marjorie had sprung to her feet and stood with her hands clasped hard together and her eyes eager. When she saw that there was nothing for her to do, she still stood with clasped hands, looking at the woman, who had apparently not even noticed her presence. Then she turned to the Dream, her eyes all alight. "Oh," she said, "I've got it! I've got it!"

"You are sure?" asked the Dream. "It didn't get away this time?"