“And for you?...”
“And for me,” she echoed; and he saw her blush. “Or ... or, Addie, my boy, my darling, is ... is it all too late? Is it too late ... for Papa’s happiness?”
“And for yours too, you mean.... Too late? Why should it be too late?”
She looked at him, thought him hard, but guessed that he was suffering more than he was willing to admit....
“I thought first ... of Papa’s happiness, Addie,” she said, softly. “Because Papa has never been happy with me ... with me who took everything from him and gave him nothing in return, I thought first of all ... of Papa’s happiness and afterwards ... afterwards....”
“Yes, Addie, then I thought ... of my own! But perhaps it is not all as I picture it, Addie ... and perhaps it is all too late....”
Then he took her in his arms; and she felt his young, sturdy, boyish body against hers, felt it all at once, as a pillar of strength.
“Too late? Why should it be, Mamma? Let us first hear what Papa thinks. Too late? No, Mamma. If you see it in this light for the first time now, why ... why should it be too late?”
She threw her arms round his neck and laid her head on his shoulder: