t what was going to happen to Osborn
when he came home. But Julia, as she looked at Marie, was triumphant;
she did not wonder what was going to happen to Osborn; she thought she
knew. And all dinner she tried to hurl tiny defiances into Rokeby's
teeth, asking with sparkling malice:

"Isn't Marie looking her own self again? Isn't it lovely to see her?
Doesn't grass-widowhood suit her? Isn't it a screaming success?"

Rokeby knew what Julia meant, but his patience was invincible.

There was a piano in the flat now; it had been Grannie Amber's, and
was old, but still it fulfilled its purpose of a musical instrument.
It stood in the sitting-room, across one of the corners by the fire,
and after dinner Marie played and Julia sang; and when she refused to
sing more, it was Desmond's turn. He looked through Marie's pile of
music, selected a song, and sat down to play his own accompaniment
with a light and beautiful touch which came as a surprise to the
listening women, who knew nothing of his drawing-room talents. He went
from song to song, and all at once Marie, transferring her gaze from
contemplative dreams, saw Julia's face. Julia leaned forward with her
elbows on her knees, her chin in her palms, looking at the man at the
piano, and in her eyes ran the old tale, and her red lips smiled and
her breast heaved. But she became conscious of Marie's look, and
sitting up sharply, drew, as it were, a blind down over the light.

"Julia?" Marie said to herself, all wonder, _"Julia!"_

She looked at Rokeby's creaseless back, at his fingers wandering over
the keys, and for the first time she noticed how sensitive, how
caressing the fingers were. Yet that two people in her intimate circle
could contemplate that through which she herself had passed painfully,
as through ordeal by fire....

It made her very kind to them both, though a small stir of queer
jealousy was in her. Before hell they would know heaven. Love and
marriage began with the celestial tour....

When they came out into the hall presently, to put on their outdoor
wraps, she beckoned them to the door of the children's room. The baby
had joined the two elder ones, and three small cots now stood in a
row, closely packed. A night-light gave enough glimmer to see the warm
faces lying peacefully on the three pillows. The women crept in and
looked down upon a scene which will always make women's hearts sing,
or ache; and Rokeby followed. To his lover's mind, never had Jul