"I'm dead, but I'm free!
Oh, ha! ha! ha!--Well, that _is_ good news! Free! And _you're_ free!"

"No, I am not free," he said quietly. "But it doesn't matter."

"You are free," she protested. "Anyhow, I'm not going to let any of
that nonsense stand in my way. And don't you--church or no church.
Life's too short." Her manner was hurried. She caught at Farvel's
arm. "We're both free, Alan, so there's nothing more to say, is there?
Except, good-by. Good-by, Alan,----"

Mrs. Milo interrupted. "But the child," she reminded. "Your daughter?"

"Daughter?" Sue turned to Balcome, questioning him, and half-guessing.

"Yes, my dear. Isn't it lovely? Mr. and Mrs. Farvel have a little
girl."

"That's the one," Balcome explained, as if Clare was not within
hearing. He jerked his head toward the hall. "The one that called her
Auntie."

"Auntie?" Mrs. Milo seized upon the information. "You surely don't
mean that the child calls her own mother Auntie?"

Clare broke in. "I'll tell you how that is," she volunteered. "You
see"--speaking to Sue--"I've never told her I'm her mother. She thinks
her mother's in Africa; her father, too. Because--because I've always
planned to give her to some good couple--a married couple. Don't you
see, as long as Barbara doesn't know, they could say, 'We are your
parents.'"

"But you couldn't give her up like that!" cried Sue, earnestly.

"No," purred Mrs. Milo. "You must keep your baby. And,
doubtless"--this with the ingratiating smile, the tip of the head, and
the pious inflection--"doubtless you two will wish to re-marry--for the
sake of the child."

"No!" cried Clare. "No! No! _No!_"

"No, Mrs. Milo," added Farvel, quietly. "She shall be free."

"No, for Heaven's sake!" put in Balcome. "Don't raise another girl
like Hattie's been raised."

Mrs. Milo showed her dislike of the remark, with its implied criticism
of her own judgment. And she was uneasy over the turn that the whole
matter had taken. Farvel married, no matter to whom, was one thing:
Farvel very insecurely tied, and possessed of a small daughter whose
mother repudiated her, that was quite another. She watched Sue
narrowly, for Sue was watching Farvel.

"But the little one," said the clergyman, turning to Clare; "I'd like
to see her."

"Sure!" She was all eagerness. "Why not?--Yes."

"Where is she?"

"Out of town. At Poughkeepsie. She boards with some people."

"Ah, good little mother