"I have just come from your old home. They told me you lived on this street," said Justine, her voice hoarse with emotion.
"And you were going to my home," cried Celeste, just as if intuition had not told her so before. "I was on my way to mother's. Isn't it lucky we met? I will go back with you at once. You must be very cold. And—a baby? Oh, the dear little one! How cold it must be."
"I have him well wrapped up," said Justine. Celeste mentally noted that the child was protected at the sacrifice of the mother's comfort, for Justine looked half frozen.
"Is he—is he your boy?" asked Celeste, and a wave of happiness surged over her when the answer came. Did it not prove that she was married and forever out of Jud's life?
"I am sure he must be a handsome little fellow," said she, as they turned from the sidewalk to the steps leading to the door of her home.
"He looks like his father—and not a bit like me," said Justine, modestly.
"Have you named him?"
"He is named after his father, of course."
"A token of real love."
"Of love, yes—he could have had no other name. I am so happy that he is a boy." The door swung open and they were in the warm hallway.