And what a glorious thing for Eva--freedom from the dead weight of an unsuccessful husband whom she had to pretend to put up with. An easier life for Eva all around. She would sell the house--_Eva_ would probably get more than five thousand dollars for it!--and with that and the insurance money would move back to her parents’ big empty village home in Brandville as the lonely old people had so many times begged her to do. People lived for next to nothing in those country towns; and as a widow she could accept the proffered help from her prosperous store-keeping father which her pride had always made her refuse as a wife. That’s what it would be for his family; and for himself--Good God! an escape out of hell. Not only had he long ago given up any hope of getting out of life what he wanted for himself,--an opportunity for growth of the only sort he felt himself meant for, but he had long ago seen that he was incapable of giving to Eva and the children anything that anybody in the world would consider worth having. The only thing he was supposed to give them was money, and he couldn’t make that. The words sang themselves in his head to a loud triumphant chant: “For haply it may be That when thy feet return....” He was brought up short by a sudden practical obstacle, looming black and foreboding before his impracticality, as life had always loomed before him. How could he manage it? His insurance policy was void in case of suicide, wasn’t it? He would have to contrive somehow to make it look like an accident. He was seared to the bone by the possibility that he might not be able to accomplish even that much against the shrewd business sense of the world which had always defeated him in everything else. At the idea he burst into strange, loud laughter, the mad sound of which so startled even his own ears that he stopped short, stricken silent, looking apprehensively about him. But there was nobody in sight, except far at the end of the street, three small figures which seemed to be running towards him and waving their arms. He looked at them stupidly for a moment before he recognized them. His own children! Oh, yes, of course, this was Thursday afternoon, Ladies’ Guild day, one of those precious Thursday hours that were different from all the others in the week. The children often got Stephen’s wraps on and brought him out to meet their father, to “start visiting” that much sooner. They were nearer now, running, Stephen bouncing between them, holding tightly to their hands. They were all smiling at him with shining welcoming eyes. He heard the sweet shrillness of their twittering voices as they called to him. The tears rushed to his eyes. They loved him. By God, they loved him, his children did! Yes, perhaps even Stephen a little. And he loved them! He had for them a treasure-store of love beyond imagination’s utmost reach! It was _hard_ to leave them.