And she had dressed very early, for Larrie had been unorthodox enough to want to see her before she came up the aisle to him. And when she saw him coming up the path, looking oddly uncomfortable in his tall new hat and frock coat, she had flown down the hall and into his arms. And at the same minute the gate had clicked to admit a string of relations eager to fall on the bride, and he had picked her up in his arms, sweeping train and veil and all, and whisked her upstairs on to the landing to have her to himself for the last few minutes before he had her for ever. The darn had been necessary, because in the quick passage up a fold had caught in a splinter in the bannisters, made by her travelling trunk. To-night she saw Larrie looking at the mud on the hem. She imagined herself without the darn, without the dress, without the wedding. It was eighteen months out of her life, that was all; all the wish she had on earth just now was to wipe out that time and be a girl again. She had tried marriage, and it had been a failure for them both; Larrie was right, the plan he offered was the best to be found; the vulgarity and misery of publicity she could not have borne, but there was no reason why they should not quietly set each other free, and go on their separate ways again. There was the child of course. She knew nothing about law and supposed Larrie had first right, since as she had often said to him the law always gave the man the best of everything. And cold, utterly tired and miserable as she was, she told herself she did not mind very much. She could not put away those eighteen months as if they had never been, if the child was always before her eyes to remind her of them. She promised herself she would go to Italy or Germany with her mother and give up her life to music, she had only failed through nervousness and misery last night, the future was full of glorious possibilities. Larrie was speaking again, there was a look of judicial fairness in his eyes. 'Since we have both an equal right to him,' he said, 'we will draw lots if you like.' 'Very well,' she said coldly. 'Will you let me make you some coffee first, you will be taking cold,' he looked at her quite without anxiety. 'I can make up a fire in the kitchen in five minutes.' 'No,' she said, 'get some paper. There are some backs of letters in the blotter.' CHAPTER XI A QUESTION OF OWNERSHIP 'And laid her face between her hands And wept (I heard her tears).' 'See, they are ready,' Larrie said. He had folded the slips of paper up into two little square pieces. 'Will you draw or shall I?' 'What have you put on them?' Dot asked. 'L and D,' he said. 'You could have put baby on one and left the other blank,' she said, 'and then I could have drawn one and left the other.' She gained half a minute by the statement. 'It comes to the same,' he said, and held them out to her on the Japanese pen tray.