"Ted, I'm going to fight—and fight hard. I won't be beaten! I won't!"
For just a second I thought she was going to break down. I should have known my Helen better.
"We must go home and make plans, dear. Call a hansom."
I looked about. We were just emerging in the Marylebone Road, or was it Euston Road? Things danced a bit before my eyes, but I waved my stick. A hansom drew up beside us.
"Euston," I said, helping Helen in.
At home I propped Helen up in a Madeira chair in the garden while we were waiting for tea. I went into the house to get our bank passbook, for there was need to find out where we stood financially. I paused as I saw Helen with wistful eyes watching her baby playing about the garden. The flowers made bright patches of color; overhead the sun and sky were glorious with an English June. The world seemed such a beautiful place—there sat a beautiful mother watching her baby at play—"Why? why?" I asked, "why to us?" No answer came, then or since. I went into the house.
Our finances proved to be in fair shape. We had enough laid by to take us overseas if we were not extravagant travellers. The income from the factory and Helen's allowance would keep us comfortable, even granting considerable addition to our living expenses. In any event, there were two generous families to lend help. It is curious, perhaps, that at first we talked only of practical problems. The reason was that we were both so determined to fight, we thought of nothing except immediately planning our campaign. We would let the house furnished. It was the most sensible thing to do, although the first tears came to Helen's eyes when she spoke of strangers using our treasures.
After tea we wrote letters to both families. There remained the question of where to go in September. Again we took an immediate decision, or rather Helen did. She felt uncertain about carrying the baby to Egypt. Neither of us had been there, and we did not know what Assuam might be like. As for California, while it was equally a strange country to us, it was at least America, and we should be, in a measure, at home. We put postscripts to our letters, announcing southern California as our destination in September. We dined in the garden and sat late under the stars, her hand in mine.