The young man, named Ned Currie, was older than Alice.
Ned Currie was puzzled by the determination and abandon of his sweetheart and was also deeply touched.
On the evening before he left Winesburg to take up his new life in the city, Ned Currie went to call on Alice.
"Now we will have to stick to each other, whatever happens we will have to do that," Ned Currie said as he left the girl at her father's door.
For a number of years nothing could have induced her to believe that Ned Currie would not in the end return to her.
Alice did not blame Ned Currie for what had hap- pened in the moonlight in the field, but felt that she could never marry another man.
The trick of saving money, begun for a purpose, was carried on after the scheme of going to the city to find Ned Currie had been given up.
She stood near the front window where she could look down the de- serted street and thought of the evenings when she had walked with Ned Currie and of what he had said.
For several years after Ned Currie went away Alice did not go into the wood with the other young people on Sunday, but one day after he had been gone for two or three years and when her loneliness seemed unbearable, she put on her best dress and set out.
"Of course I will not let him make a practice of being with me, but if he comes to see me once in a long time there can be no harm in that," she told herself, still determined in her loyalty to Ned Currie.
Although she sometimes thought of Ned Currie, she no longer depended on him.