"That's where I don't see with you," she replied gently. "In my opinion it is in refusing to accept our responsibilities that we merit disgrace. I've learned that quite lately. Let me try to explain." She clung closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder and was silent for a space, plunged in thought. The old man continued his occupation of stroking the bright hair, and was silent too, wondering what it was that needed explanation. "You never asked me," Prudence said presently, "what it was that brought me home so unexpectedly." "I was so glad," he replied, "to see you. It never occurred to me to ask the reason of your coming. It's sufficient for me that you are here." "Dear!" she said, and pressed his hand fondly. "I'm always glad to come. I'm sorry that ever I went away. I came home because of a quarrel with Edward. I left him in anger. I had thoughts of leaving him altogether. You see, dear, I too have behaved badly. I meant to shirk my responsibilities because they had grown irksome. Don't grieve, daddy; that's all past. I've come to see that life can't be twisted to suit each person's needs. We should make a hopeless tangle of it if we followed that principle. There's one simple course for the straight and decent liver--to accept life as it is and make the best of it. I mean to write to Edward to-day and ask him to come down and fetch me. Then I will tell him about the child. If he consents to my adopting him, I shall take him back with me." "You will make Edward's consent a condition to your reconciliation?" Mr Graynor asked. "Oh, no!" Prudence looked swiftly into his face. "I am hoping that he will give it as a concession." She twined her arms about the old man's neck and drew his cheek to hers and pressed hers against it. "I'm just hungry for a little child," she said. "I long to hear little footsteps about the house, to know the clinging feel of little hands. I'm just a sackful of motherhood tied down and repressed. I feel that I can't go on like this much longer." "I wish you had a dozen babies of your own," he said wistfully. "My dear!" She was laughing now, though the tears shone behind the laughter. "Half that number would serve." "I still don't like the idea of you adopting this child," Mr Graynor said after a pause. "He comes of bad stock, Prue." "Not bad stock," she contradicted. "I've known his mother all my life. She made a mistake. That was largely due to environment: many girls in her position would have done the same. And William... we won't judge William. We don't know--everything, do we? I am a great believer in training. I know the faults I have to watch for. I shall teach my child to be honest and generous and self-controlled."