“But don’t you see, dear—it’s going to be so wonderful! We’ll have enough for everything—more than enough. Plenty to take care of you and plenty for me to go on with anything I want to do. I brought a little over for you to get along on just for now—see, that package on the chair there—where my hat is. Don’t mind what’s in it; remember there’s a lot more—thousands. They paid all that down, you see, and I’m to have so much a year to work for them—that is, after we’ve got _you_ all right. That’s the first thing. I couldn’t do anything,—any work at all, if I—if I was afraid about you. And you know what you have to do for _your_ part, don’t you, dear one? Wherever the doctors say, you must go, and whatever they tell you to do you’ll do, won’t you?” Edith didn’t answer. She was lying quite motionless against him. He looked down at her. “But—but you——” she began in a faint voice, and stopped, hesitating. “Yes?” he encouraged her tenderly. “I mean you——” (Quite a pause.) “Aren’t you coming too—if I—if I have to go a long way off?” “Yes dear—as soon as I can! But to make this sale I had to agree to oversee the setting up of the machine—and the regulating and all that. It’s bound to take a little time—it’s bound to, dear—and it won’t do for you to wait—oh no!” “But—don’t you think you can come soon?” “Oh——I do!” “You see, I”—she clung against him—“I wouldn’t care much about getting well if you weren’t there.” “My dear!” She seemed satisfied and nestled down. After a time she spoke again, a little mournfully. “I hoped we could do what we always thought we would as soon as you sold something. You know what we—what we planned.” “Yes, I know.” “Will there—will there be enough for that, too?” “More than enough.” “But I suppose this other”—with a little sighing breath—“I suppose it must come first.” “It must, my precious one.” “Yes, I know.” She had referred to their plan of having her get a divorce as soon as there was money enough to do it. After this they sat together, silent mostly. Suddenly Haworth realized he ought to go. He knew some arrangement had been made for detaining Findlay, but had kept no track of the time. Now a strong feeling that the hour was late took possession of him. For Edith’s peace of mind the fellow mustn’t find him there. But he couldn’t leave without going upstairs to little Mildred, asleep in her crib. As they approached the door of the bedroom he stopped and caught Edith to him, holding her close in his arms. “My dear,” he whispered, and her lips, as she looked up in his face, moved in a soundless “Yes.” After a moment they went on; but in that moment her heart began throbbing again with the same vague alarm she had felt before.