She caressed his head with compassionate hands. "Yes, dearest, yes." Her eyes were tragic as she listened. "We need you so terribly." The words of the Marchesa! She had used them eons ago, when this self-same afternoon was young. Poor Marchesa! Poor Vittorio! They would suffer if they were to lose her. But not like Alexis. Alexis and a baby! Combination of helplessness! If she, Anne, were to forsake them, what would become of them at all? And she owed it to Claire. It was the only reparation she could make for the injuries she had been forced to inflict upon her. To look after Alexis, to cherish him as the dead girl had longed to do herself so that his marvelous art might not be stilled by sorrow, to give her child, poor mite, the love and happiness its mother had craved and never received. Anne's path seemed to lie clear before her tear-washed eyes. Once more, Vittorio would have to be sacrificed. This time forever. But he was strong. His grief would never break him. He would make of it a staff to further progress. But Alexis--for Alexis, her refusal might mean return to that dark Limbo from which she had rescued him once before. And to that fate, so much more bitter than death, Anne could never condemn him. She pressed her cheek against the head that lay so humbly upon her knees. She raised his face and looked down into the tragic young eyes. A long look, a giving look, a look that poured divine essence of compassion from her very soul, in a sort of spiritual transfusion, until the face between her hands became suffused with rapture. "No Alexis, do not be afraid, I shall not desert you now. Nothing but your own will can ever separate us." He looked up at her with the humility of a dumb beast. "Does this mean you are really going to marry me, Anne?" he asked in hushed tones. She nodded gravely. "If you wish it." The rapture on his face brimmed over into tremulous laughter. "Anne, Anne!" He was about to take her in his arms, but she repulsed him with gentle dignity. "No, Alexis, not now dear." He understood. A subdued expression veiling his joy, he sat down quietly at a little distance. Anne looked at him gratefully. After all, she could always count upon his delicacy, which was a great comfort. "Where is the child?" she inquired, making an effort to shoulder her new responsibilities. He looked pleased. "In the apartment in Gramercy Park. He has a trained nurse, and is getting along very well. I had a cable yesterday. Oh, Anne, will you try to love him?" Anne smiled through the leaden lassitude that had suddenly fallen upon her. "I shan't have to try. He is little and helpless and yours." "Anne, my beautiful one, my angel!" This time she did not evade the effusion, but resigned herself to the hungry young arms. Much later, after Alexis had gone, and the fire had smouldered into a mound of white dust, Anne went to the telephone, and sent Vittorio the wire which was to nullify so completely her summons of a few short hours ago.