Thorpe, vaguely hurt, a little resentful, as the genuinely misunderstood are apt to be, hesitated a moment, then trudged down the street.

Helen too paused at the door, choking back her grief.
"Harry! Harry!" she cried wildly; but it was too late.
Both felt themselves to be in the right.

Each realized this fact in the other.

Each recognized the impossibility of imposing his own point of view over the other's..