Jim raised his head and looked at her. His eyes hungrily took in the rounded forehead, the straight nose, beautiful in profile, the ear set too high for harmony and spoiling the effect of the line of the jaw, the almost perfect mouth and chin, so appealingly feminine. His gaze devoured her eyes with their clear unflinching depths of honesty, suggesting little of sex as it is generally sought for by men; the brown of her hair with almost golden strands arranged, as always, low on her too generous brow and swept down over her ears with the exact curve that she instinctively knew would hide and pick out all the points that needed suppression or emphasis; her clear skin, so really white and delicate of texture as he knew by the glimpses her morning dresses had given him of her neck down by the shoulder and of the inner surface of her forearms; her hands and feet of normal efficient size, the hands with supple slender fingers widened at the tips; her body, the waist but moderately restricted and the bosom low, suggesting the long and willing nursing of her child—he knew her so well!
Suddenly he groaned. Beads of cold moisture were on his brow.
“I can’t give you up.” He spoke with difficulty. “Lucy, Lucy, he’s not fit for you!”
Lucy did not try to hide the tears that coursed down her cheeks.
“My whole life is yours,” he continued with suppressed intensity. Then, springing to his feet again he strode toward her. “Nothing can keep me away from you, Lucy!” he said hoarsely.
She put out her hand and as it touched his breast he stopped.
“I can’t, Jim! Oh, don’t you see I can’t?” she begged.
Then she turned and went swiftly out of the office.
Jim stared at the closed door for several minutes. At last he sat down slowly at his desk. He covered his face with his hands and began to sob.
Lucy walked the streets and the park until dusk.
When she reached home neither John nor Nannie was there.
“Dey’s done et deir dinnah. I ’lows dey’s gone to de t’eayter, Miss Lucy,” volunteered Katy.
Dimmie was asleep on the sofa in the dining room. Lucy carried him upstairs and undressed him.
When the child, whom she but half awakened, had gone to sleep again she lay face downward on the bed and wept until John and Nannie were heard ascending the stairs.
Lucy did not go to breakfast the next morning. Katy came up with a tray.
“I don’t care for any, thank you,” Lucy said through the locked door.
When she descended the stairs she was surprised to find John still at home, smoking by the dining room table. Mrs. Merwent was not to be seen.
“Aren’t you going to the office?” Lucy inquired of him.
“No. I want to talk to you,” he answered. His face was stern and his voice was cold.
“Where’s Mother?”
“She has gone some place with Miss Powell.”
Lucy seated herself by the window.
“I came back to the office yesterday evening,” John began.
Lucy looked at him.
“As I came around the corner I saw you coming out of the building. I went in to see if there were any letters and Jim Sprague was there alone, and, what is more, he seemed very surprised to see me.”
“Well?” Lucy’s tone was dull.
“I want to know what this means. That’s what I want to know.” His voice grew less controlled as he proceeded.
They gazed at each other with hostile faces. Dimmie entered the room.
“I’m ready to go to Mrs. Hamilton’s,” he announced.
Lucy kissed him, inspected his clothes, and straightened his hat.
“Goodbye, little son,” she smiled.
“Goodbye, Papa,” Dimmie called as he went out.
“Goodbye,” John responded impatiently.
“What do you send that boy over to Mrs. Hamilton’s every day for?” he demanded harshly.
“To go to kindergarten.”
“Kindergarten! There’s no sense in his going to kindergarten in the summer. But if there was, why couldn’t he go from here?”
“He could.”
“Then what’s the use of bothering your neighbors?”
“I send him early so as to get him away from Mother as much as possible,” admitted Lucy.
“We’ll discuss that later,” John’s lip curled, “but first I want an explanation of why you went to the office yesterday.”
“I shall explain nothing, John,” Lucy answered.
“Did you see Jim Sprague?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Well, didn’t you know I wouldn’t be there?”
“I did.”
“Then why did you pick out a day when I would be away?”
“I wanted to see Jim alone.”
“What for?” John’s face grew redder.
“I wanted to consult him.”
“Alone?” sneered John.
“Yes, alone.”
“What did you need to consult him about?” John demanded in a more peremptory tone.
“That is my own affair, John.”
“Well, it just isn’t your own affair. I’m not going to stand this kind of thing any longer.”
“Neither am I.”
“You won’t have to,” snarled John.
“Exactly. I have decided just that.”
He stared at her in astonishment.
“What do you mean, Lucy?” He lowered his voice.
“I mean that I am going to leave.”
“With Jim Sprague?” John almost shouted, springing to his feet and walking back and forth.
“Katy will hear you, John.”
“Damn Katy! I don’t care who hears!” he snapped.
“Very well then. Neither do I,” returned Lucy calmly.
“I’ll just tell you one thing right here,” John continued, “and that is that you and Jim Sprague are not going to take my child away from me.” He was breathing heavily and his eyes were suffused.
“We will settle about the child legally,” replied Lucy, in the same manner, “but you are mistaken about Jim. I am not going away with him. I am going alone.”
“How will you support yourself? I suppose your father’s wife will do that.” John almost ground his teeth.
“She knows nothing about my plans. I shall do anything I can to earn a living for myself and Dimmie. Miss Storms will take me in till I can get started. I can do book binding. I don’t intend ever to be dependent on anybody again.”
A frightened expression came into John’s eyes.
“Lucy, you are crazy! You’re trying to scare me. What reason have you got for leaving your
