"And a selfish feeling like that is strong enough to make you willing to break a good man's heart, and desert your child?" asked Lydia in calm tones.
"It won't break his heart, Lyd—not nearly so much as he broke yours, years ago! And when I can—when I could, I would send for my boy! He'd be happier here—" Martie, rather timidly watching her sister's face, suddenly realized the futility of this and changed her tone. "But let's not talk about it any more to-night, Lydia, we're both too tired and excited!"
"I don't understand you," Lydia said patiently and wearily, "I never did. I should think that SOMETIMES you'd wonder whether you're right, and everybody else in the world is wrong—or whether the rest of us know SOMETHING—"
Martie generously let her have the prized last word, and went upstairs again.
To her surprise she found Teddy awake. She sat down on the edge of the bed, and leaned over the small figure.
"Teddy, my own boy! Haven't you been asleep?"
"Moth'," he said, with a child's uncanny prescience of impending events, "if I were awfully, awfully bad—"
"Yes, Ted?" she encouraged him, as he paused.
"Would you ever leave me?" he asked anxiously.
The question stabbed her to the heart. She could not speak.