of　the　lamp；　Janet　had　her　turn　at　reading。　　From　the　first　she　had　been
  quick　to　note　Mrs。　Maturin's　inflections；　and　the　relics　of　a　high…school
  manner　were　rapidly　eliminated。　　The　essence　of　latter…day　realism　and
  pragmatism；　its　courageous　determination　to　tear　away　a　veil　of　which　she
  had　always　been　dimly　aware；　to　look　the　facts　of　human　nature　in　the
  face；　refreshed　her：　an　increasing　portion　of　it　she　understood；　and　she
  was　constantly　under　the　spell　of　the　excitement　that　partially　grasps；
  that　hovers　on　the　verge　of　inspiring　discoveries。　　This　excitement；
  whenever　Insall　chanced　to　be　present；　was　intensified；　as　she　sat　a
  silent　but　often　quivering　listener　to　his　amusing　and　pungent　comments
  on　these　new　ideas。　　His　method　of　discussion　never　failed　to　illuminate
  and　delight　her；　and　often；　when　she　sat　at　her　typewriter　the　next　day；
  she　would　recall　one　of　his　quaint　remarks　that　suddenly　threw　a　bright
  light　on　some　matter　hitherto　obscure。。。。　　Occasionally　a　novel　or　a　play
  was　the　subject　of　their　talk；　and　then　they　took　a　delight　in　drawing
  her　out；　in　appealing　to　a　spontaneous　judgment　unhampered　by
  pedagogically　implanted　preconceptions。　　Janet　would　grow　hot　from
  shyness。
  〃Say　what　you　think；　my　dear；〃　Mrs。　Maturin　would　urge　her。　　〃And
  remember　that　your　own　opinion　is　worth　more　than　Shakespeare's　or
  Napoleon's！〃
  Insall　would　escort　her　home　to　Mrs。　Case's　boarding　house。。。。
  One　afternoon　early　in　June　Janet　sat　in　her　little　room　working　at　her
  letters　when　Brooks　Insall　came　in。　　〃I　don't　mean　to　intrude　in　business
  hours；　but　I　wanted　to　ask　if　you　would　do　a　little　copying　for　me；〃　he
  said；　and　he　laid　on　her　desk　a　parcel　bound　with　characteristic
  neatness。
  〃Something　you've　written？〃　she　exclaimed；　blushing　with　pleasure　and
  surprise。　　He　was　actually　confiding　to　her　one　of　his　manuscripts！
  〃Wellyes；〃　he　replied　comically；　eyeing　her。
  〃I'll　be　very　careful　with　it。　　I'll　do　it　right　away。〃
  〃There's　no　particular　hurry；〃　he　assured　her。　　〃The　editor's　waited　six
  months　for　itanother　month　or　so　won't　matter。〃
  〃Another　month　or　so！〃　she　ejaculated；but　he　was　gone。　　Of　course　she
  couldn't　have　expected　him　to　remain　and　talk　about　it；　but　this
  unexpected　exhibition　of　shyness　concerning　his　workso　admired　by　the
  world's　choicer　spiritsthrilled　yet　amused　her；　and　made　her　glow　with
  a　new　understanding。　　With　eager　fingers　she　undid　the　string　and　sat
  staring　at　the　regular　script　without　taking　in；　at　first；　the　meaning　of
  a　single　sentence。　　It　was　a　comparatively　short　sketch　entitled　〃The
  Exile；〃　in　which　shining；　winged　truths　and　elusive　beauties　flitted
  continually　against　a　darkbackground　of　Puritan　oppression；　the　story　of
  one　Basil　Grelott；　a　dreamer　of　Milton's　day；　Oxford　nurtured；　who；
  casting　off　the　shackles　of　dogma　and　manmade　decrees；　sailed　with　his
  books　to　the　New　England　wilderness　across　the　sea。　　There　he　lived；
  among　the　savages；　in　peace　and　freedom　until　the　arrival　of　Winthrop　and
  his　devotees；　to　encounter　persecution　from　those　who　themselves　had　fled
  from　it。　　The　Lord's　Brethren；　he　averred；　were　worse　than　the　Lord's
  BishopsBlackstone's　phrase。　　Janet；　of　course；　had　never　heard　of
  Blackstone；　some　of　whose　experiences　Insall　had　evidently　used。　　And　the
  Puritans　dealt　with　Grelott　even　as　they　would　have　served　the　author　of
  〃Paradise　Lost〃　himself；　especially　if　he　had　voiced　among　them　the
  opinions　set　forth　in　his　pamphlet　on　divorce。　　A　portrait　of　a　stern
  divine　with　his　infallible　Book　gave　Janet　a　vivid　conception　of　the
  character　of　her　ancestors；　and　early　Boston；　with　yellow　candlelight
  gleaming　from　the　lantern…like　windows　of　the　wooden；　Elizabethan　houses；
  was　unforgettably　etched。　　There　was　an　inquisition　in　a　freezing　barn　of
  a　church；　and　Basil　Grelott　banished　to　perish　amid　the　forest。　　in　his
  renewed　quest　for　freedom。。。。　　After　reading　the　manuscript；　Janet　sat
  typewriting　into　the　night；　taking　it　home　with　her　and　placing　it
  besides　her　bed；　lest　it　be　lost　to　posterity。　　By　five　the　next　evening
  she　had　finished　the　copy。
  A　gentle　rain　had　fallen　during　the　day；　but　had　ceased　as　she　made　her
  way　toward　Insall's　house。　　The　place　was　familiar　now：　she　had　been
  there　to　supper　with　Mrs。　Maturin；　a　supper　cooked　and　served　by　Martha
  Vesey；　an　elderly；　efficient　and　appallingly　neat　widow；　whom　Insall　had
  discovered　somewhere　in　his　travels　and　installed　as　his　housekeeper。
  Janet　paused　with　her　hand　on　the　gate　latch　to　gaze　around　her；　at　the
  picket　fence　on　which　he　had　been　working　when　she　had　walked　hither　the
  year　before。　　It　was　primly　painted　now；　its　posts　crowned　with　the
  carved　pineapples；　behind　the　fence　old…fashioned　flowers　were　in　bloom；
  lupins　and　false　indigo；　and　the　retaining　wall　of　blue…grey　slaty　stone；
  which　he　had　laid　that　spring；　was　finished。　　A　wind　stirred　the　maple；
  releasing　a　shower　of　heavy　drops；　and　she　opened　the　gate　and　went　up
  the　path　and　knocked　at　the　door。　　There　was　no　responseeven　Martha
  must　be　absent；　in　the　village！　　Janet　was　disappointed；　she　had　looked
  forward　to　seeing　him；　to　telling　him　how　great　had　been　her　pleasure　in
  the　story　he　had　written；　at　the　same　time　doubting　her　courage　to　do　so。
  She　had　never　been　able　to　speak　to　him　about　his　work　and　what　did　her
  opinion　matter　to　him？　　As　she　turned　away　the　stillness　was　broken　by　a
  humming　sound　gradually　rising　to　a　crescendo；　so　she　ventured　slowly
  around　the　house　and　into　the　orchard　of　gnarled　apple　trees　on　the　slope
  until　she　came　insight　of　a　little　white　building　beside　the　brook。　　The
  weathervane　perched　on　the　gable；　and　veering　in　the　wet　breeze；　seemed
  like　a　live　fish　swimming　in　its　own　element；　and　through　the　open　window
  she　saw　Insall　bending　over　a　lathe；　from　which　the　chips　were　flying。
  She　hesitated。　　Then　he　looked　up；　and　seeing　her；　reached　above　his　head
  to　pull　the　lever　that　shut　off　the　power。
  〃Come　in；〃　he　called　out；　and　met　her　at　the　doorway。　　He　was　dressed　in
  a　white　duck　shirt；　open　at　the　neck；　and　a　pair　of　faded　corduroy
  trousers。　　〃I　wasn't　looking　for　this　honour；〃　he　told　her；　with　a
  gesture　of　self…deprecation；　〃or　I'd　have　put　on　a　dinner　coat。〃
  And；　despite　her　eagerness　and　excitement；　she　laughed。
  〃I　didn't　dare　to　leave　this　in　the　house；〃　she　explained。　　　Mrs。　Vesey
  wasn't　home。　　And　I　thought　you　might　be　here。〃
  〃You　haven't　made　the　copy　already！〃
  〃Oh；　I　loved　doing　it！〃　she　replied；　and　paused；　flushing。　　She　might
  have　known　that　it　would　be　simply　impossible　to　talk　to　him　about　it！
  So　she　laid　it　down　on　the　workbench；　and；　overcome　by　a　sudden　shyness；
  retreated　toward　the　door。
  〃You're　not　going！〃　he　exclaimed。
  〃I　mustand　you're　busy。〃
  〃Not　at　all；〃　he　declared；　〃not　at　all；　I　was　just　killing　time　until
  supper。　　Sit　down！〃　　And　he　waved　her　to　a　magisterial…looking　chair　of
  Jacobean　design；　with　turned　legs；　sandpapered　and　immaculate；　that　stood
  in　the　middle　of　the　shop。
  〃Oh；　not　in　that！〃　Janet　protested。　　〃And　besides；　I'd　spoil　itI'm　sure
  my　skirt　is　wet。〃
  But　he　insisted；　thrusting　it　under　her。　　〃You've　come　along　just　in
  time；　I　wanted　a　woman　to　test　itmen　are　no　judges　of　chairs。　　There's
  a　vacuum　behind　the　small　of　your　back；　isn't　there？　　Augusta　will　have
  to　put　a　cushion　in　it。〃
  〃Did　you　make　it　for　Mrs。　Maturin？　　She　will　be　Pleased！〃　exclaimed
  Janet；　as　she　sat　down。　　〃I　don't　think　it's　uncomfortable。〃
  〃I　copied　it　from　an　old　one　in　the　Boston　Art　Museum。　　Augusta　saw　it
  there；　and　said　she　wouldn't　be　happy　until　she　had　one　like　it。　　But
  don't　tell　her。〃
  〃Not　for　anything！〃　　Janet　got　to　her　feet　again。　　〃I　really　must　be
  going。〃
  〃Going　where？〃
  〃I　told　Mrs。　Maturin　I'd　read　that　new　book　to　her。　　I　couldn't　go
  yesterdayI　didn't　want　to　go；〃　she　added；　fearing　he　might　think　his
  work　had　kept　her。
  〃Well；　I'll　walk　over　with　you。　　She　asked　me　to　make　a　little　design　for
  a　fountain；　you　know；　and　I'll　have　to　get　some　measurements。〃
  As　they　emerged　from　the　shop　and　climbed　the　slope　Janet　tried　to　fight
  off　the　sadness　that　began　to　invade　her。　　Soon　she　would　have　to　be
  leaving　all　this！　　Her　glance　lingered　wistfully　on　the　old　farmhouse
  with　its　great　centre　chimney　from　which　the　smoke　was　curling；　with　its
  diamond…paned　casements　Insall　had　put　into　the　tiny　frames。
  〃What　queer　windows！〃　she　said。　　〃But　they　seem　to　go　with　the　house；
  beautifully。〃
  〃You　think　so？〃　　His　tone　surprised　her；　it　had　a　touch　more　of
  earnestness　than　she　had　ever　before　detected。　　〃They　belong　to　that　type
  of　house　the　old　settlers　brought　the　leaded　glass　with　them。　　Some
  people　think　they're　cold；　but　I've　arranged　to　make　them　fairly　tight。
  You　see；　I've　tried　to　restore　it　as　it　must　have　been　when　it　was
  built。〃
  〃And　these？〃　she　asked；　pointing　to　the　millstones　of　different　diameters
  that　made　the　steps　leading　down　to　the　garden。
  〃Oh；　that's　an　old　custom；　but　they　are　nice；〃　he　agreed。　　〃I'll　just　put
  this　precious　manuscript　inside　and　get　my　foot　rule；〃　he　added；　opening
  the　door；　and　she　stood　awaiting　him　on　the　threshold；　confronted　by　the
  steep　little　staircase　that　disapp