"Because it is not a sweetheart of that sort I want," John protested vigorously. "I've had the same feelings as most men, I suppose, but I've fought my battle out to the end, only for a different reason. I want a wife and I want children."
"Will she bring you children, that woman?" Stephen asked bitterly.
"I hope so," John asserted simply. "I believe so."
There was a moment's silence. Stephen lit his pipe and puffed steadily at it, his eyes fixed upon the log that blazed on the hearth.
"There is a muzzle upon my mouth," he said presently. "There are words close to my lips which would part you and me, so I'll say no more. Go your own way, John. I'll ask you but one more question, and you must take that as man from man, brother from brother. How old is she?"
"Twenty-seven."
"And she has been an actress, playing parts like the one I saw her in, for how long?"
"Since she was nineteen," John replied.
"And you believe she's a good woman?"
John gripped at the sides of his chair. With a tremendous effort he kept the torrent of words from his lips.