to have the child.'

'But would you be able to afford it?' said Easton.

'We should manage all right.'

'Of course,' said Easton, 'if Slyme comes back he might agree to pay
something for its keep.'

Owen flushed.

'I wouldn't take his money.'

After a long pause Easton continued: 'Would you mind asking Mrs Owen to
suggest it to Ruth?'

'If you like I'll get her to suggest it--as a message from you.'

'What I meant,' said Easton hesitatingly, 'was that your wife might
just suggest it--casual like--and advise her that it would be the best
way, and then you could let me know what Ruth said.'

'No,' replied Owen, unable any longer to control his resentment of the
other's manner, 'as things stand now, if it were not for the other
child, I should advise her to have nothing further to do with you. You
seem to think that you are acting a very generous part in being
"willing" to have her back, but she's better off now than she was with
you. I see no reason--except for the other child--why she should go
back to you. As far as I understand it, you had a good wife and you
ill-treated her.'

'I never ill-treated her! I never raised my hand to her--at least only
once, and then I didn't hurt her. Does she say I ill-treated her.'

'Oh no: from what my wife tells me she only blames herself, but I'm
drawing my own conclusions. You may not have struck her, but you did
worse--you treated her with indifference and exposed her to temptation.
What has happened is the natural result of your neglect and want of
care for her. The responsibility for what has happened is mainly
yours, but apparently you wish to pose now as being very generous and
to "forgive her"--you're "willing" to take her back; but it seems to me
that it would be more fitting that you should ask her to forgive you.'

Easton made no answer and after a long silence the other continued:

'I would not advise her to go back to you on such terms as you seem to
think right, because if you became reconciled on such terms I don't
think either of you could be happy. Your only chance of happiness is
to realize that you have both done wrong; that each of you has
something to forgive; to forgive and never speak of it again.'

Easton made no reply and a few minutes afterwards, their ways
diverging, they wished each other 'Good night'.

They were working for Rushton--painting the outside of a new
conservatory at Mr Sweater's house, 'The Cave'. This job was finished