"There he is," she said, pointing down to where a naked urchin in the deep shade was piling fallen lemons together. The father gave an odd little laugh. "Ah, yes! there he is! So there's the little man! Fine!" he said. He really was thrilled in his suppressed, nervous soul. "Hello, Johnny!" he called, and it sounded rather feeble. "Hello, Johnny!" The child looked up, spilling lemons from his chubby arms, but did not respond. "I guess we'll go down to him," said Juliet, as she turned and went striding down the path. Her husband followed, watching the rosy, fleet-looking lifting and sinking of her quick hips, as she swayed a little in the socket of her waist. He was dazed with admiration, but also, at a deadly loss. What should he do with himself? He was utterly out of the picture, in his dark grey suit and pale grey hat, and his grey, monastic face of a shy business man. "He looks all right, doesn't he?" said Juliet, as they came through the deep sea of yellow-flowering oxalis, under the lemon trees. "Ah!--yes! yes! Splendid! Splendid!--Hello, Johnny! Do you know Daddy? Do you know Daddy, Johnny?" He crouched down and held out his hands. "Lemons!" said the child, birdly chirping. "Two lemons!" "Two lemons!" replied the father. "Lots of lemons." The infant came and put a lemon in each of his father's open hands. Then he stood back to look. "Two lemons!" repeated the father. "Come, Johnny! Come and say Hello to Daddy." "Daddy going back?" said the child. "Going back? Well--well--not to-day." And he gathered his son in his arms. "Take a coat off! Daddy take a coat off!" said the boy, squirming debonair away from the cloth. "All right, son! Daddy take a coat off." He took off his coat and laid it carefully aside, then again took his son in his arms. The naked woman looked down at the naked infant in the arms of the man in his shirt sleeves. The boy had pulled off the father's hat, and Juliet looked at the sleek, black-and-grey hair of her husband, not a hair out of place. And utterly, utterly indoors. She was silent for a long time, while the father talked to the child, who was fond of his Daddy. "What are you going to do about it, Maurice?" she said, suddenly. He looked at her swiftly, sideways. "Er--about what, Julie?" "Oh, everything! About this! I can't go back into East Forty-Seventh." "Er--," he hesitated, "no, I suppose not--Not just now at least." "Never," she said, and there was a silence. "Well--er--I don't know," he said. "Do you think you can come out here?" she said. "Yes!--I can stay for a month. I think I can manage a month," he hesitated. Then he ventured a complicated, shy peep at her, and hid his face again. She looked down at him, her alert breasts lifted with a sigh, as if a breeze of impatience shook them. "I can't go back," she said slowly. "I can't go back on this sun. If you can't come here----"