“You wrote to me, I remember, after his death in May, and told me about the woman he had lived with. What happened further?”
Jack got up.
“It is all very terrible,” he said. “The girl died only about ten days ago, in giving birth to a baby. The baby is living. It was about that that I went to see my mother this afternoon.”
“What did she suggest?”
“An orphanage,” said Jack. “It had been suggested before, and I think it is quite out of the question. The case is not an orphanage case. There is plenty of money. I hoped—no, I hardly hoped—that my mother would suggest that the baby should be brought up in her house, for I owe a great deal to Frank, and as he is dead without my being able to pay it, I owe it to his memory. But she did not suggest it. So I think I shall take the child and bring it up myself.”
He paused.
“Yes, I know there are objections,” he said. “To begin with, people will talk. Luckily, however, there is nothing in the world which matters so little as what such people say. The other objections are more important. It would be better for the child not to be in London. But I dare say things will work out somehow. For the present, at any rate, I shall certainly do that. It is bad enough for a child to be fatherless and nameless. What an ass poor Frank was! And what a good one!”
“What was the girl like?” asked Arthur. “Did you know her?”
“Yes, but very slightly. Oh, I can’t talk about it. She was nice. Frank meant to marry her—that I know.”
“One means so much,” said Arthur.