I couldn't leave home.
Papa would want to know all about where I was going.
I wouldn't know what to say."
"Why couldn't you pretend that you are going down to New York with Mrs. Bracebridge?" he suggested.
"There couldn't be any objection to that, could there?"
"Not if they didn't find out," she said, her eyes opening in amazement.
"But if they should!"
"They won't," he replied calmly.
"They're not watching Mrs. Bracebridge's affairs.
Plenty of mistresses take their maids on long trips.
Why not simply tell them you're invited to go—have to go—and then go?"
"Do you think I could?" she inquired.
"Certainly," he replied.
"What is there peculiar about that?"
She thought it over, and the plan did seem feasible.
Then she looked at this man and realized that relationship with him meant possible motherhood for her again.
The tragedy of giving birth to a child—ah, she could not go through that a second time, at least under the same conditions.
She could not bring herself to tell him about Vesta, but she must voice this insurmountable objection.
"I—" she said, formulating the first word of her sentence, and then stopping.
"Yes," he said.
"I—what?"
"I—" She paused again.
He loved her shy ways, her sweet, hesitating lips.
"What is it, Jennie?" he asked helpfully.
"You're so delicious.
Can't you tell me?"
Her hand was on the table.
He reached over and laid his strong brown one on top of it.
"I couldn't have a baby," she said, finally, and looked down.
He gazed at her, and the charm of her frankness, her innate decency under conditions so anomalous, her simple unaffected recognition of the primal facts of life lifted her to a plane in his esteem which she had not occupied until that moment.
"You're a great girl, Jennie," he said.
"You're wonderful.
But don't worry about that.
It can be arranged.
You don't need to have a child unless you want to, and I don't want you to."
He saw the question written in her wondering, shamed face.
"It's so," he said.
"You believe me, don't you?
You think I know, don't you?"
"Yes," she faltered.
"Well, I do.
But anyway, I wouldn't let any trouble come to you.
I'll take you away.
Besides, I don't want any children.
There wouldn't be any satisfaction in that proposition for me at this time.
I'd rather wait.
But there won't be—don't worry."
"Yes," she said faintly.
Not for worlds could she have met his eyes.
"Look here, Jennie," he said, after a time.