get up and walk away, Gyp nodded.

The little dancer placed the sweet in her mouth, and said complacently:

"Of course he has; because he married you."

Then, seeming to grow conscious of Winton's eyes fixed so intently on
her, she became confused, swallowed hastily, and said:

"Oh, isn't it lovely here--like the country! I'm afraid I must go; it's
my practice-time. It's so important for me not to miss any now, isn't
it?" And she rose.

Winton got up, too. Gyp saw the girl's eyes, lighting on his rigid hand,
grow round and rounder; and from her, walking past the side of the house,
the careful voice floated back:

"Oh, I do hope--" But what, could not be heard.

Sinking back in her chair, Gyp sat motionless. Bees were murmurous among
her flowers, pigeons murmurous among the trees; the sunlight warmed her
knees, and her stretched-out feet through the openwork of her stockings.
The maid's laughter, the delicious growling of the puppies at play in the
kitchen came drifting down the garden, with the distant cry of a milkman
up the road. All was very peaceful. But in her heart were such curious,
baffled emotions, such strange, tangled feelings. This moment of
enlightenment regarding the measure of her husband's frankness came close
on the heels of the moment fate had chosen for another revelation, for
clinching within her a fear felt for weeks past. She had said to Winton
that she did not want to have a child. In those conscious that their
birth has caused death or even too great suffering, there is sometimes
this hostile instinct. She had not even the consolation that Fiorsen
wanted children; she knew that he did not. And now she was sure one was
coming. But it was more than that. She had not reached, and knew she
could not reach, that point of spirit-union which alone makes marriage
sacred, and the sacrifices demanded by motherhood a joy. She was fairly
caught in the web of her foolish and presumptuous mistake! So few months
of marriage--and so sure that it was a failure, so hopeless for the
future! In the light of this new certainty, it was terrifying. A hard,
natural fact is needed to bring a yearning and bewildered spirit to
knowledge of the truth. Disillusionment is not welcome to a woman's
heart; the less welcome when it is disillusionment with self as much as
with another. Her great dedication--her scheme of life! She had been
going to--what?--save Fiorsen from himself! It was laughable. Sh