"So all I had to do," said Maurice, "was to think of Jacky's welfare. That made it easier to decide. I find," he said, simply, "that you can decide things pretty easily if you don't have to think of yourself. So I said, 'If I marry Lily, though Jacky couldn't be taken away from me, physically, spiritually'--you know what I mean, Mrs. Houghton?--'he might be removed to--to the ends of the earth!' I might lose his affection; and I've got to hold on to _that_, at any cost, because that's how I can influence him." He was talking now entirely to Edith's mother, and his voice was harsh with entreaty for understanding. He didn't care very much whether Henry Houghton understood or not. And of course Edith could never understand! But that this serene woman of the stars should misjudge him was unbearable. "You see what I mean, Mrs. Houghton, don't you? I know Lily;--and I know that if she thought I had any _right_ to say how he must be brought up, it would mean nothing but perfectly hideous controversies all the time! So long as she thinks she has the upper hand, she'll be generous; she doesn't mind his being fond of me, you know. But she'd fight tooth and nail if she thought I had any _rights_! You see that, don't you?" "I see it!" Edith said. "Yet from a merely material point of view," said Mrs. Houghton, "in spite of 'controversies,' legitimacy would give Jacky advantages, which--oh, Maurice, don't you see?--_your son_ has a right to!" But her husband said, quickly, "Mary, living with a quarreling father and mother is spiritual illegitimacy; and the disadvantages of that would be worse than the material handicap of being a--a fatherless child." His daughter flashed a passionately grateful look at him. Maurice, still speaking to Edith's mother, said: "That's the way I looked at it, Mrs. Houghton. So it seemed to me that I could do more for him if I didn't marry Lily." Mary Houghton was silent; it was very necessary to consider the stars. "I put myself out of it," Maurice said. "I just said, 'If it's best for Jacky, I'll ask her to marry me,' My honest opinion was that it would be bad for him." Edith struck two chords--and sat down on the piano stool, swallowing hard. "You don't agree with me, I'm afraid, Mrs. Houghton?" he said, anxiously. "My dear boy," she said, "I am sure you are doing what you believe to be right. But it does not seem right to me." He flinched, but he was not shaken; "It isn't going to be easy, whatever I do. I want to educate him, and see him constantly, and influence him as much as possible. And Lily will be less jealous of me, in her own house, than she would be in mine." Edith got up and came and sat on the arm of the sofa by her father. "I can see," she said, "how much easier it would be for Maurice to do the hard thing." Maurice looked at her with deep tenderness. "You _are_ a satisfying person!" he said.