A mouse eludes Maud for weeks before she finally captures it: “It shook its little self, as best it could, in the trap” (69). She attributes human family values to the mouse, considering the sense of grief and loss the mouse’s family members might endure upon learning of its demise. She cannot bear the mouse’s look and lets it free. The experience leaves her feeling a new sense of purpose in having shown restraint in sparing the mouse’s life: “Why, I’m good! I am good” (71). Maud returns to her household chores with a straight posture and kind, loving eyes.

Paul agrees to take Maud to a downtown movie house. They rarely venture downtown because Paul typically argues that parking is difficult—and there are too many white people. Maud is in a romantic mood, admiring the faint snowfall and feeling preciously devoted to Paul.

The evening takes an awkward turn when Paul points out that he and Maud are the only colored people at the theater. They’re both uncomfortable, and Paul’s refusal to ask a white girl at a candy counter for directions leaves Maud looking at him as a coward. Paul eventually asks an usher where to purchase tickets, and Maud is relieved when they’re able to go in and watch the movie.