being fond of Baby." Even passion had to own that
the words had the ring of remorse, of insight, of certainty, and, above
all, of haste. Such haste as precluded all deliberation. Evidently it
was an afterthought. It had come to her, inopportunely, in the last
moment before flight, and she had given it the place and the importance
she would naturally give to a subject in which she herself was not in
any way concerned.

There remained the possibility that she might be mistaken. But the dates
upheld her. In the beginning he and she had, of necessity, gone very
carefully into the question of dates. He remembered that there had been
a whole body of evidence establishing the all-important point beyond a
doubt. All of his honor that he most cared for she had spared. She had
not profaned the ultimate sanctity, nor poisoned for him the very
sweetness of his life.

* * * * *

There were sounds in the front garden. Winny was bringing in the
children. He went out to meet them as they came up the flagged walk.
Dossie toddled, clinging to the skirts of Winny, who in all her
tenderness and absurdity, with her most earnest air of gravity and
absorption in the adventure, pushed the pram. In the pram, tilted
backward, with his little pink legs upturned, Baby fondled, deliciously,
his own toes. He was jerking himself up and down and making for the
benefit of all whom it might concern his very nicest noises.

Ranny stood in the doorway, silent, almost austere, like a man escaped
by a hair's breadth from great peril.

When he caught sight of the silent and austere young man in the doorway,
Baby let go his fascinating toes. He chuckled with delight. He jerked
himself more than ever up and down. He struggled to be free, to be
lifted up and embraced by the young man. Silence and austerity were no
deterrent to Baby, so assured was he of his position, of his welcome, of
the safe, warm, tingling place that would presently be his in the hollow
of the young man's arm. The desire of it made Baby's arms and his body
writhe, with a heartrending agitation, in his little knitted coat.

All this innocent ecstasy of Baby the young man met with silence and
austerity and somber eyes.

With Winny's eyes on him he indeed lifted Baby up, disclosing, first,
his pathetically bunched and bundled back, and then his face,
exquisitely contorted.

And Winny, who had _forgotten_ for a minute, laughed.

"He is funny, isn't he?