"You know, I would have taken him, too," he tried to answer all she left unsaid, hating himself for the unsteady humility he could not keep from his voice. "I always meant to. I meant to do everything for the boy. I could—I am Anthony Adriance."
She spoke, then, her smooth voice all roughened.
"You can buy him everything? You cannot buy him his father. And nothing will make up for that."
"But——"
She struck down the weak protest.
"I know. I have a good father. And Holly," the infinite compassion of her glance embraced the baby, "he has not even a real mother to do her half. It is not right; you cannot make it right."
"But I have! I am going——!"
He faltered. How was he to explain to her the scene that had just been enacted? Was it decent to Lucille?
"I've done my best," he stammered. "I told you; you know I've not liked this."
The exclamation blended defiance and appeal; it was almost a cry wrested from him. His position had been hard enough before the introduction of this new element. The girl understood, for the anger died from her eyes like a blown-out flame.