She was pale but very calm and sure of herself as she closed the door behind her. For a while they stood, looking at each other. She had matured, grown more beautiful; the old, graceful carriage was unchanged; the enticing lines of her had come to a greater perfection. He had grown older, she thought, was much more of a man than when she had known him before. His face had formed; he had resolution and strength and a balance that had been missing; in his eyes she read something that chilled her. “You wish to see me, Peter?” she asked. He nodded. He was trembling; feared to speak lest his voice betray him. “What is it you wish to see me about?” “I want my child.” His voice was low; the words seemed to choke him, so that he ended on a cough. “You want--your child?” She shook her head so slightly that if he had not been watching her closely the gesture would have escaped him. “Will you tell me what you mean?” She was fencing. She wanted time to take all this in. He had shocked her very badly. “Why pretend, Jane? You know what I want, and what I mean. Where is our child?” She passed her hand wearily across her eyes. “I don’t know,” she said. She made no attempt to evade the question, accepted his knowledge, startling as it was, “I don’t know. Is it worth while knowing? He is very happy. I did what was best, Peter. I told nobody. When I went to Reno----” “You have divorced me?” She did not answer. A lie trembled on her lips and was instantly rejected--impatiently. “No, I have not divorced you,” she said. “They would not grant me a divorce because you had not been served with the papers--or something of the sort. I don’t understand the law very well. I was a fool, of course.” Another intense silence. “That puts me in your hands, doesn’t it?” she went on. “Though I don’t imagine you will----” He stopped her with an impatient gesture. “I’m not thinking of you and I’m not thinking of myself,” he said. “I am thinking of the boy. You don’t know? Jane, you horrify me! You don’t know where your own child---- Good heavens! I thought he might not be here, but that you should tell me so quietly and calmly that you’ve lost track of him--as if he were a----” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Honestly, Peter, I don’t know. I was terrified when I knew he was coming. I just dimly remember seeing the little thing, and then they took him away--we had arranged it beforehand.” “Who are ‘we?’” She hesitated.