"You bad-tempered?" he said. "No, indeed! You're just the opposite.

That's why I suggested you when I heard about this boy."

"What boy?"

"Why, a little fellow of seven--David his name is--that Dr. Lavendar

is trying to find a home for. And I thought perhaps you--"

"--would take him?" cried Mrs. Richie in astonishment, and then she

laughed. "I!"

"Why, it occurred to me that perhaps you might be lonely, and--"

Helena Richie stopped laughing; she pulled off her other glove and

looked down at her white hands. "Well, yes, I'm lonely. But--I don't

like children, Dr. King."

"You don't?" he said blankly, and in his surprise he sat down again.

"Oh, I'm sure that's only because you don't know them. If you had ever

known a child--"

"I have," Mrs. Richie said, "one." Her voice was bleak; the gayety had

dropped out of it; for an instant she looked old. William King

understood.

"It died?"

She nodded. She began to pull her gloves on again, smoothing down each

finger carefully and not looking at him.

"A little girl?"

"Boy." She turned her face away, but he saw her chin tremble. There

was a moment's silence; then the doctor said with curious harshness.

"Well, anyhow, you know what it means to have owned your own."

"Better not have known!"

"I can't feel that. But perhaps I don't understand."

"You don't understand." Her head, with its two soft braids wound

around it like a wreath, was bent so that he could not see her face.

"Dr. King, his father--hurt him. Yes; hurt a little baby, eight

months and twelve days old. He died seven weeks later."

William drew in his breath; he found no words.

"That was twelve years ago, but I can't seem to--to get over it," she

said with a sort of gasp.

"But how--" Dr. King began.

"Oh, he was not himself. He was--happy, I believe you call it

'happy'?"

"How did you bear it!"

"I didn't bear it I suppose. I never have borne it!"

"Did he repent before he died?" William King said passionately.

"Before he--?" Her voice suddenly shook; she made elaborate pretence

of calmness, fastening her gloves and looking at them critically; then

she said: "Yes, Dr. King; he repented. He repented!"

"If there ever was excuse for divorce, you had it!"




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