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 And yet, looking over that evening, she knew he was such an individual, capable of arousing admiration, deserving of such praise…. But she did not like to hear this girl uttering the praise. She paused in her thoughts—thunderstruck. Could it be possible she was jealous of this girl, jealous because of Angus Burke? Lydia sneered at herself for the thought. It was absurd, ridiculously impossible. Yet something was not right, something moved, her—and decidedly she did not like this girl.

“I’ve got to go in to Myrtle now,” she said shortly.

That night Angus Burke was the subject of conversation in many homes. Without meaning to do so he had gained a minor victory over Rainbow; had taken a longer stride forward than he had ever taken before. In a measure he had become heroic. At any rate he had performed an action requiring courage, resolution, a sort of heroic ability which nobody else had possessed at the needful moment… and it is impossible utterly to despise a quasi-hero.

As for Lydia Canfield, she was compelled to think of Angus in a new way. For the first time she regarded him as an individual capable of social possibilities; as a person whom knowledgeable persons could regard as their equal. The words of the girl visitor remained with