He still stared at her in speechless misery. He tried in vain to picture his future life, tried to realise that he was left with two small children who had no mother. Useless. He could imagine no other person in Minnie’s place. No one but Minnie looking after those children; anyone else would be an impostor, a fraud, intolerable. “I don’t know,” he said, “I haven’t thought much about it yet.” “I’d do my best for them,” Frances said, with something like entreaty in her voice. “Perhaps,” said Mr. Petersen, “they may take away Sandra.” And to his horror, a sob escaped him. He could not endure the idea of losing that beloved little girl; he fancied her gone, and his own poor baby more solitary than ever. Like a flash came the full realisation of the wreck of his life, the desolation ahead of him. He bowed his head in his huge hands. Frances came over to him. “Please!” she said, “Mr. Petersen!” It was the first time she had felt any pity for him; she had pitied Lionel, pitied herself; now her heart was wrung for this poor fellow, innocent as herself, and more wronged. “Anyway,” she said, “you have your little boy.” “That makes it worse,” he answered, in a muffled voice. “He is an illegitimate child. He is disgraced.” “Oh, you don’t believe such things!” cried Frances. “You’re far too sensible and broad-minded for that, I know!” “No, no, I’m not.... If it was the ordinary thing--a passion--a love affair.... But she--lived here as my wife.... Everyone knew her.” He raised his head and looked at her with honest, misty, blue eyes. “What am I to say? Bigamy is a crime. She is a bigamist. I’ve got to keep it quiet. We were married here; it’s in the register.... I cannot tell anyone she was not my wife. I’ll have to let it be thought that she deserted me--ran off with this--this chap we called her brother. I’ll be the laughing stock of the place. Under his nose it went on, the neighbours will say. And I was a fool. Such a fool! I can’t believe it ...! My boy is going to hear all that in the course of time.” “Can’t you leave here?” “I’ve built up my name and reputation here. At my age--to start all over again ...! “I’m very sorry,” she said, simply. “Thank you,” he replied. She could see that he wanted to be alone, and that he was not able to think then of the future. He was too bitterly concerned with the past and with the present. She said good-night to him, and went upstairs again, to be near the children. III She was awakening next morning by a cry from the baby, and she sprang up at once, to wait on it, to adore it, to serve it in any capacity.