There were some things that could illume his dark stretches and level Mary-Clare's vague reachings to a common level. Both Larry and Mary-Clare were conscious now of being face to face with a grave human experience. They stood revealed, man and woman. The big significant things in life are startlingly simple. The man attacked the grim spectre with conventional and brutal weapons; the woman backed away with a dogged look growing in her eyes. "Oh! you aren't, eh?" Larry spoke slowly. "You've decided, have you?" "I know what children mean to you, Larry; I know what you mean by--love--yes: I've decided!" "You wedged your way into my father's good graces and crowded me out; you had enough decency, when you knew his wishes, to carry them out as long as you cared to, and now you're going to end the job in your own way, eh? "Name the one particular way in which you're not going to break your vows," Larry asked, and sneered. "What's your nice little plan?" He got up and walked about. "I suppose you have cut and dried some little compromise." "Oh! Larry, I wish you could be a little kind; a little understanding." "Wish I could think as you think; that's what you mean. Well, by God, I'm a man and your husband and I'm going to stand on my rights. You can't make a silly ass of me as you did of my father. Fathers and husbands are a shade different. Come, now, out with your plan." "I will not have any more children! I'll do everything I can, Larry; make the home a real home. Noreen and I will love you. We'll try to find some things we all want to do together; you and I can sort of plan for Noreen and there are all kinds of things to do around the Forest, Larry. Really, you and I ought to--ought to carry out your father's work. We could! There are other things in marriage, Larry, but just--the one." Breathlessly Mary-Clare came to a pause, but Larry's amused look drove her on. "I'm not the kind of a woman, Larry, that can live a lie!" A tone of horror shook Mary-Clare's voice; she choked and Larry came closer, his lips were smiling. "What in thunder!" he muttered. Then: "You plan to have us live on here in this house; you and I, a man and woman--and----!" Larry stopped short, then laughed. "A hell of a home that would be, all right!" Mary-Clare gazed dully at him. "Well, then," she whispered, and her lips grew deadly white, "I do not know what to do." "Do? You'll forget it!" thundered Larry. "And pretty damned quick, too!" But Mary-Clare did not answer. There was nothing more to say. She was thinking of the birth-night and death-night of her last child.