"He'll wake up, Jim, when I lift him over. That's what he wants. He'll wake up and say, 'Is that you, mother?' And he'll be asleep again, God bless him! before I can tell him that it is. My God! Jim, I can't tell you what it means to come in at night and find him lying there. That little body of a man! That clean, white soul! I can't tell you how I feel, Jim. It's something a man can't know. And do you think he'd stand for you? He'd say he would. Oh, he'd say he would! He'd look in my eyes, Jim, and he'd find out what I wanted him to say; and he'd _say_ it. But, Jim, he'd be hurt. Understand? He'd think I didn't love him any more. He's only a child--and he'd think I didn't love him. Where'd he sleep, Jim? Alone? He couldn't do it. Don't you _see_? I can't live with nobody, Jim. And I don't want to. I don't care for myself no more. I used to, in them days--when you and me and Dick and the crowd was all together. But I don't--no more!" The man stooped, picked a small stocking from the floor, stood staring at it. "I'm changed," the woman repeated, "since I got the boy." "I don't know what you'll do, Millie, when he grows up." She shook her head. "And when he finds out?" "That's what I'm afraid of," she whispered, hoarsely. "Somebody'll tell him--some day. He don't know, now. And I don't want him to know. He ain't our kind. Maybe it's because I keep him here alone. Maybe it's because he don't see nobody. Maybe it's just because I love him so. I don't know. But he ain't like us. It would hurt him to know. And I can't hurt him. I can't!" The man tossed the stocking away. It fell upon a heap of little under-garments, strewn upon the floor. "You're a fool, Millie," said he. "I tell you, he'll leave you. He'll leave you cold--when he grows up--and another woman comes along." She raised her hand to stop him. "Don't say that!" she moaned. "There won't be no other woman. There can't be. Seems to me I'll want to kill the first that comes. A woman? What woman? There won't be none." "There's _got_ to be a woman." "What woman? There ain't a woman in the world fit to--oh," she broke off, "don't talk of _him_--and a woman!" "It'll come, Millie. He's a man--and there's got to be a woman. And she won't want you. And you'll be too old, then, to----" The boy stirred. "Hist!" she commanded. They waited. An arm was tossed--the boy smiled--there was a sigh. He was sound asleep again. "Millie!" The man approached. She straightened to resist him. "You love me, don't you?" She withdrew. "You want to marry me?" Still she withdrew; but he overtook her, and caught her hand. She was now driven to a corner--at bay. Her face was flushed; there was an irresolute light in her eyes--the light, too, of fear. "Go 'way!" she gasped. "Leave me alone!" He put his arm about her. "Don't!" she moaned. "You'll wake the boy." "Millie!" he whispered.