"Oh, my dear!" she cried, and clung weeping to him, and caught at him and sat herself upon his knees, and put her arms about his head, and kissed him passionately with tear-salt lips, with her hair falling upon his face. "My dear," she whispered.... § 16 So soon as Trafford could spare an afternoon amidst his crowded engagements he went to talk to Solomonson, who was now back in London. "Solomonson," he said, "you were talking about rubber at Vevey." "I remember," said Solomonson with a note of welcome. "I've thought it over." "I _thought_ you would." "I've thought things over. I'm going to give up my professorship--and science generally, and come into business--if that is what you are meaning." Solomonson turned his paper-weight round very carefully before replying. Then he said: "You mustn't give up your professorship yet, Trafford. For the rest--I'm glad." He reflected, and then his bright eyes glanced up at Trafford. "I knew," he said, "you would." "I didn't," said Trafford. "Things have happened since." "Something was bound to happen. You're too good--for what it gave you. I didn't talk to you out there for nothing. I saw things.... Let's go into the other room, and smoke and talk it over." He stood up as he spoke. "I thought you would," he repeated, leading the way. "I knew you would. You see,--one _has_ to. You can't get out of it." "It was all very well before you were married," said Solomonson, stopping short to say it, "but when a man's married he's got to think. He can't go on devoting himself to his art and his science and all that--not if he's married anything worth having. No. Oh, I understand. He's got to look about him, and forget the distant prospect for a bit. I saw you'd come to it. _I_ came to it. Had to. I had ambitions--just as you have. I've always had an inclination to do a bit of research on my own. I _like_ it, you know. Oh! I could have done things. I'm sure I could have done things. I'm not a born money-maker. But----." He became very close and confidential. "It's----_them_. You said good-bye to science for a bit when you flopped me down on that old croquet-lawn, Trafford." He went off to reminiscences. "Lord, how we went over! No more aviation for me, Trafford!" He arranged chairs, and produced cigars. "After all--this of course--it's interesting. Once you get into the movement of it, it takes hold of you. It's a game." "I've thought over all you said," Trafford began, using premeditated phrases. "Bluntly--I want three thousand a year, and I don't make eight hundred. It's come home to me. I'm going to have another child." Solomonson gesticulated a congratulation.