With a calmness that was appalling she sat where he had left her, staring in front of her with glassy eyes. How long it had been with her she did not know, but she slowly became conscious of the physical pain gnawing at her heart. Oh, how she welcomed it! She wanted it to hurt and hurt until it would carry her off, where she would be free from pain forever. In a moment’s time, there flashed before her a panoramic view of her life. Oh, God, how useless—how in vain—it had all been! And now (she stretched her arms out before her) she stood ready to go out into the future—alone! Alone! Alone! CHAPTER XXII “Out into the future—alone! Alone! Alone!” Marjorie Benton read the words aloud. For a moment she sat very still, looking about her in bewilderment. “Oh—oh!” she exclaimed, and again: “O-o-h!” She jumped up from her comfortable wicker chair and ran to the bedroom door. She opened it softly. There in their little cribs, sound asleep, were Elinor and Howard. She looked about the room once more and sighed contentedly. Yes, here she was in her own wonderful little kitchen. She picked up the book she had been reading and which had dropped to the floor and placed it on the table. She looked at it, and turned with a shudder. The door opened quietly, and Hugh tiptoed in. “Why darling!” he whispered, mindful of the babies. “Up yet? It’s after twelve o’clock.” With a little scream of delight, Marjorie ran to him and threw herself into his arms. “Hugh! Oh Hugh, darling!” she exclaimed breathlessly. Again and again she kissed him. “Dearest—sweetheart! Is it you?” “Why, honey girl!” Hugh laughed as he held her in his arms. “If this is the reception I receive after being away a few hours, I think I’ll have to go somewhere and stay a week.” “You are my own sweetheart, aren’t you, Hugh?” She pinched his arms, and felt of his shoulders and chest. “Of course, I am! What’s the matter with you, dear?” He shook her gently. “I’ve never seen you act this way before?” “Nothing—only I’m so _happy_, dear.” She laughed hysterically as she clung to him. “Because you’re you—and I’m me—and our babies are ours—and this——” “Whatever in the wide world—” Hugh was emphatically nonplused. His wife giggled at his perplexity. “Goose!” she chided playfully. “Can’t I have a few dramatics for myself, and ease up some of my emotions.” But as she saw his concerned expression as he looked at her so closely, she added: “Well, if you must know, here’s the answer. You know how I love to read a book and always put you in the hero’s place and make myself the heroine——” “Yes, I know all about that, you little romancer,” he laughed, and he pinched her flushed cheek. “According to the different people you’ve been, you must be hundreds of years old!”