"Yes. I can easily live there. And you, Ermentrude?"
"To New York. I shall never go far from him. But he and I will never meet. My world will not be his world. I shall make my own place."
"As Ermentrude Taylor?"
"As Mrs. Ermentrude Taylor. I am a wife. I shall never forget that fact."
"And the child? Will you never come to see it?"
Ermentrude's head fell and she stood a long time without answering. Then with a steady look she calmly said:
"I can think of but one contingency which might shake my resolution to leave her yours without the least interruption from me. If he—Antoinette, if he were left alone and childless, I might see my duty differently from now. You must be prepared for that."
"Ermentrude, when you send me this little shoe—See, I will leave one on and give you the other, I shall know that you are coming, or that you want the child. My life is yours as I once promised, and do you think I would hold back the child?"
And again their hands met as once before, in that strong clasp, which means:
"Trust me to the death and beyond it."