“All these months she has been working to interest her father in me, and now the baby is a year old, he has decided to help me.... We—Josephine and I—knew he would soften in time; you see he, too, loves Josephine and the Baby. So I want to go to them.”
“Yes,” I said simply, for a sense of approaching loss had robbed me of my pretty speeches.
“When you met me, I didn’t know where to go, nor what to do,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I have flattered myself I have been some help to you in starting your work. Tell me have I made good to you?”
“Yes.”
“I shall try to make good to Josephine’s father.”
“Yes.”
Then in a few moments he said: