“Yes—she has another one—a pretty one, I think,” she said, at last. “It is Gracie—Grace—”
She looked up at him appealingly.
But the emotion in her face made his lips tighten. He had heard so many revelations of her that morning. What was this last to be?
“Well,” he said, coldly, “that is a pretty name, so far as it goes; but what is the rest of it?”
“Overton,” she said, in a low voice, and his face flushed scarlet. 355
“What do you mean?” he asked, harshly, and the little one, disliking his tone, reached her arms to ’Tana. “Whose child is this?”
“Your child.”
“It is not true.”
“It is true,” she answered, as decidedly as himself. “Her mother—the woman you married—told me so when she was dying.”
He stared at her incredulously.