He told her there in halting phrases about his marriage. His disjointed words only touched upon the high places, like a child skipping across a brook on the stepping-stones. All the difficult everyday intercourse with his wife that had followed their union was a dark flood he did not dip into. What he did tell was enough for her to understand. “We lived in the same town together,” he said. “I’d known her always, off an’ on. She was mighty handsome--big and full of life. Everybody thought she was going to marry Warwick Preston. But I reckon they quarreled or something. Anyhow, him and Ethel Dow ran off and got married. She--Elizabeth--lived a few doors down the street from me. We met one evening--she was mighty fine an’ big-lookin’. She asked me to come an’ see her, an’ I went several evenin’s. One night she cried, an’ said how lonesome she was. I was lonesome, too--” “I understand,” Julie cried hastily, and he went no further with his explanation. They turned away from the unhappy past to the miracle of the present. “We’re free! We’re free!” she exulted. “None of the little old fears can hold us any more. We’ve found ourselves, honey! We’ve found one another.” “It was you unlocked the door an’ set me free,” he burst out. “You’re my sister an’ my mother! You’re all I am. Oh, my little honey! My love!” “I’m your sister an’ your mother--I’m the one that would die for you!” she cried in answer. After that they needed no more words. Silence fell, and the dusk that had faded now into dark, wrapped them close about. They sat thus for a long time, but at last it was late, and rising they made their way hand in hand like happy children back to the three little rooms that were now their home. XV In the lodging-house in their new life together Julie and Mr. Bixby passed as Mr. and Mrs. Freeman. It was Julie who named them. “An’ that’s the truth; we _are_ free. It isn’t any lie,” she pleaded. “It’s God’s truth,” he affirmed solemnly.