omewhere else. I may even go stay at the club."

"That's very kind of you, Jerry. If Anna went with me, I could get Mrs.
Biggs to look after the studio and cook for you, if you did want to stay
here for a meal occasionally. Would you like that?"

"Yes, that's all right."

All of the next day Jane was busy with her preparations. She summoned
Mrs. Biggs by telephone, announced the plan to Anna.

"But ain't this a bad time to travel with the baby?"

"No, I think not; a change will do all of us good."

"Mr. Paxton comin'?"

"No, just we three."

"Who'll take care of him?"

"Mrs. Biggs."

"Oh, her!"

Anna departed to attend to her dinner and Jane went into the nursery to
lay out her son's travelling outfit. He was awake and crowing lustily.
Presently, as she selected or discarded small garments, Jerry came in
and went to the cradle side. Small Jerry lifted his voice in greeting
and displayed his entire smile.

"Hello, old man," said his father.

Baby gurgled back.

"All right for me to take him downstairs with me, Jane?" he asked.

"Of course. Take a blanket along in case it's cool down there."

She watched Jerry's deft handling of the baby as he wrapped him and
tucked him into his arm. There was a mist in her eyes as he went out,
and she dropped her hands in her lap, with the question as to whether
she was doing the right thing. Was she being unfair to Jerry? Should she
give it all up--stay where she was--let well enough be? Then she thought
of Martin--of the rights to her consideration which his great offering
made for him; she thought of her own rights--what it would mean to her
to know a great love--to love greatly. Little Jerry's shrill cry from
below brought her back. Her first impulse was right, to get away from
all the things that pulled upon her--to see the horizon on all sides--to
think to that line.

The piles of Baby's things were ready and she went to her own room to
sit down in the dusk and decide where she should go. She did not know
many places about New York, the summer places she and Jerry had
considered would be too bleak and dreary now in the late winter. She
thought back to the New Jersey towns she knew as a girl. There was one
holiday she specially remembered, spent in Lakewood, with a maiden lady,
Miss Garnett, who owned a little house and took people to board. She
had never thought of it in years; the woman might be dead now, but she
would try it anyway. She would like that cotta