Margaret bowed assent.
"I will say to you frankly that I do not consider it for the child's best good that your visits should be more frequent than provided by the court—"
"In other words, you want him to forget me," she broke in bitterly.
He did not answer the outburst.
"—but the trains run past Elmhurst at such hours that it would be difficult to make the trip in a morning or afternoon. At any time that it suits your convenience to be there at luncheon, I trust you will feel at liberty to do so."
She looked at him in amazement. Then she said proudly, "Pardon me. I could hardly bring myself to do that, Mr. De Jarnette."
He bowed gravely.
"As you will. Another thing: the station is some distance from the house. If you will let them know when to expect you, the carriage will always be there to meet you."
There seemed the strangest incongruity in this iron man's arranging for her comfort and convenience, while persistently doing the one thing that broke her heart. She felt suddenly ashamed of her ungraciousness.
"Thank you," she said "for your courtesy. I—I beg that you will pardon my rudeness. True, the right to be always with my child is already mine—I do not relinquish one jot or tittle of that claim—but I realize that you have done more than the law required of you. For this I thank you. But it must be distinctly understood that I am not to be bought off by it. Nor will my efforts to recover my child be relaxed. The fight is on between us, and I warn you that I shall never give it up."