Sick at heart, I motioned the young mother to rise.
“Not till you swear,” she said.
“I swear, Zyp.”
She got up then and led the way into the little dingy sitting-room from which she had issued. A cradle stood by the fire and an empty feeding bottle lay on the table. How strange it seemed that Zyp should own them!
Jason followed as far as the door, where he stood leaning.
Then in the cold light of morning I saw how wan was the face of the changeling of old days; how piercing were her eyes; how sadly had the mere animal beauty shrunk to make way for the soul.
“You are brown, Renny,” she said, with a pitiful attempt at gayety. “You look old and wise to us poor butterflies of existence.”
“Oh,” said Jason. “I see you are set for confidences and that I’m in the way. I’ll go out for a walk.”
“Stop!” I cried, turning on him once more. “Go, as far as I am concerned, and God grant I may never see your face again. But understand one thing. Keep out of the way of the man I fought with just now for your sake. He promised, but even the promises of good and just men may fail under temptation. Keep out of his way, I warn you—now and always.”
“I’m obliged to you,” he answered, in a high-strung voice; “it seems to be a choice of evils. I prefer evil anyway in the open air.”