ver dreamed a woman could love a man. I could tear myself
into little pieces for him bit by bit. And I can't get him. He's as far
removed from me as the stars in heaven. You could never understand. I pray
every night to God to forgive me, and to work a miracle and bring him to
me. But miracles don't happen. He'll never come to me. He can't come to me.
While you have been patronizing him, patting him on the head, playing Lady
Bountiful to him--as you are doing to the other man who has given up a
fortune this very morning just because he loves you--while you've been
doing this and despising him--yes, you know you do in your heart, for a
simple, good-natured, half-witted creature who amuses himself with crazy
inventions, he has done a thing to save you from pain and shame and
sorrow--you, not me--because he loved you. And now I love him. I would give
all I have in life for the miracle to happen. But it can't. Don't you
understand? It can't!"

She stood panting in front of Zora, a passionate woman obeying elemental
laws; and when passionate women obey elemental laws they are reckless in
speech and overwhelming in assertion and denunciation. Emmy was the first
whom Zora had encountered. She was bewildered by the storm of words, and
could only say, rather stupidly:

"Why can't it?"

Emmy thew two or three short breaths. The notion had come again. The
temptation was irresistible. Zora should know, having brought it on
herself. She opened the door.

"Madame Bolivard!" she cried. And when the Frenchwoman appeared she pointed
to the bassinette.

"Take baby into the bedroom. It will be better for him there."

"_Bien, madame_," said Madame Bolivard, taking up the child. And when the
door had closed behind her Emmy pointed to it and said:

"That's why."

Zora started forward, horror stricken.

"Emmy, what do you mean?"

"I'll tell you. I couldn't with him in the room. I should always fancy that
he had heard me, and I want him to respect and love his mother."

"Emmy!" cried Zora. "Emmy! What are you saying? Your son not respect
you--if he knew--do you mean...?"

"Yes," said Emmy, "I do--Septimus went through the marriage ceremony with
me and gave us his name. That's why we are living apart. Now you know."

"My God!" said Zora.

"Do you remember the last night I was at Nunsmere?"

"Yes. You fainted."

"I had seen the announcement of the man's marriage in the newspaper."

She told her story briefly and defiantly, a