"Won't you sit down?" he asked, in a more kindly tone, as he moved a chair for her. She seated herself, and he crossed the room and looked out of the window; his back was almost turned towards her. "What can I do for you?" "I have not seen you, Jimmy, since--since our marriage day," she said at last, in a low voice. "That--that seems funny--doesn't it; but then, of course--everything is different--isn't it?" "Of course," he replied. "How have you got on--and how are you living?" "Very quietly; it is a little place--a mere tiny cottage, far away from everyone; and Patience and I have spent a lot of time out of doors lately. Patience tells me I have roses coming in my cheeks for the first time in my life. That seems strange, too--doesn't it? But then, of course, I'm very happy." "I'm glad to know that," he forced himself to say. "Very happy indeed. There is--there's the child; such a lot to do for her. You don't ask about the child, Jimmy?" "You are going to tell me about her," he said more gently. She laughed softly, and leaned forward, with her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped; she seemed to be looking far away beyond him. "I think she's the prettiest baby in all the world, Jimmy," she said. "When I wake up in the morning she is there to smile at me; and that begins the day so well, you know. Sometimes she wakes me; a little soft hand digging at me, and trying to open my eyes. I woke in a fright the other night, dreaming that I had lost her; I was almost mad for a moment; I cried out in the darkness; I called on God. And there she was, when the dream had got out of my brain, lying soft and rosy and well beside me. She has dark eyes--like mine; and little hands that double just round one's finger, and hold it. I could sit all day with her holding me like that. But there"--she laughed again, and sat upright--"I'm boring you with all this that means so much to me--aren't I?" "Oh--no," he replied. "I am--glad to know that you are so happy; I had thought it might be otherwise. Why did you send back the money?" "I did not need it," she replied. "Our wants are so few, Jimmy--just the tiny house, and the garden--and the baby; I never thought I could be so happy." "You were very unhappy when I saw you last," he reminded her. "I've tried to forget--I've almost succeeded," she whispered, with her head bent. "Other thoughts have come to me as time has gone on--thoughts that seemed to grow first when I knew that the child was to be born. I could not tell you what they were, Jimmy; they were wonderful holy thoughts, that came most to me at night; they made everything that had happened seem so poor and so paltry." She sat for a minute or two in silence, and then got up hastily. "Well--I must say good night, Jimmy; I only waited to see you--just for a minute." "You're not going back to the country to-night?" he said, holding her hand for a moment.