Her favorite word "Rubbish!" rose to Julia's lips; but was instantly repressed. Proud herself, she could both respect and sympathize with the pride in the other.
"I'm wondering," she said after a pause, "just how much my son's lady-love loves my son."
At that, Aliette's eyes suffused. But she could make no reply, and Julia went on:
"My dear, do you think I don't know how much you care for him? Do you think I don't realize that you have made him happy? Happier than I ever did. Won't you make me happy too? Won't you try and care, just a little, for me--for Ronnie's mother?"
"Don't, please don't." The proud lips trembled. "It hurts me that you--that you----" And suddenly, impulsively, Aliette was on her knees--her head bowed, her shoulders shaking to the sobs that had broken pride.
"I love him"--the words, tear-choked, were scarcely audible--"I adore him. I'd kill myself to-morrow if I thought it would be for Ronnie's good. I never meant, I never meant to come between you and him. I never intended that you"--the brown head lifted, the brown eyes gazed up into Julia's blue--"that you should have to know me until--until things were put right. You needn't--after this. I'll be quite content--if you'll let him come to me--sometimes--to take a little house--to wait for him. I don't want you to be--mixed up in things you hate. I don't want to--to flaunt myself with your son."
Said Julia Cavendish, speaking stiffly lest the tears blind her: "You haven't answered my question, Aliette. I may call you Aliette, mayn't I? You haven't yet told me whether you could care for--Ronnie's mother?"
For answer, Aliette took one of the old hands between her two youthful ones; and, bowing her head again, kissed it.
"You oughtn't to forgive me. You oughtn't to call me Aliette," whispered "that woman."
"Ronnie will be so furious with me if he thinks I've made you cry," whispered back Ronnie's mother; and leaning forward, took "that woman" in her arms.