"My first baby," she said--"the one we call Darling, the biggest little girl--I wanted to die when I knew I was going to have her, because Lowell was like a stranger to me. It didn't seem as though she could be my own. I wrote you a letter and tore it up. Oh, you were _so_ bad to me, Anson." It was the dialogue again, rising and falling. Anson felt a sudden quickening of memory. "Weren't you engaged once?" she asked--"a girl named Dolly something?" "I wasn't ever engaged. I tried to be engaged, but I never loved anybody but you, Paula." "Oh," she said. Then after a moment: "This baby is the first one I ever really wanted. You see, I'm in love now--at last." He didn't answer, shocked at the treachery of her remembrance. She must have seen that the "at last" bruised him, for she continued: "I was infatuated with you, Anson--you could make me do anything you liked. But we wouldn't have been happy. I'm not smart enough for you. I don't like things to be complicated like you do." She paused. "You'll never settle down," she said. The phrase struck at him from behind--it was an accusation that of all accusations he had never merited. "I could settle down if women were different," he said. "If I didn't understand so much about them, if women didn't spoil you for other women, if they had only a little pride. If I could go to sleep for a while and wake up into a home that was really mine--why, that's what I'm made for, Paula, that's what women have seen in me and liked in me. It's only that I can't get through the preliminaries any more." Hagerty came in a little before eleven; after a whiskey Paula stood up and announced that she was going to bed. She went over and stood by her husband. "Where did you go, dearest?" she demanded. "I had a drink with Ed Saunders." "I was worried. I thought maybe you'd run away." She rested her head against his coat. "He's sweet, isn't he, Anson?" she demanded. "Absolutely," said Anson, laughing. She raised her face to her husband. "Well, I'm ready," she said. She turned to Anson: "Do you want to see our family gymnastic stunt?" "Yes," he said in an interested voice. "All right. Here we go!" Hagerty picked her up easily in his arms. "This is called the family acrobatic stunt," said Paula. "He carries me up-stairs. Isn't it sweet of him?" "Yes," said Anson. Hagerty bent his head slightly until his face touched Paula's. "And I love him," she said. "I've just been telling you, haven't I, Anson?" "Yes," he said. "He's the dearest thing that ever lived in this world; aren't you, darling? ... Well, good night. Here we go. Isn't he strong?" "Yes," Anson said. "You'll find a pair of Pete's pajamas laid out for you. Sweet dreams--see you at breakfast." "Yes," Anson said. VIII The older members of the firm insisted that Anson should go abroad for the summer. He had scarcely had a vacation in seven years, they said. He was stale and needed a change. Anson resisted.