“I don’t know.”
“You’ve just come back to town?”
“I’ve just come back to Jim and I’ve not gone to the office yet. I’m going later.”
“You’re going to marry Jim soon?”
“If he’ll have me. I’ve been rotten, Grace. I’ve been cheap. I wanted to run Jim’s life—choose his friends. Then when I found I couldn’t, instead of respecting his resistance or leaving him a right to decide things for himself I left him and let Anthony Wentworth make love to me. For a while I even let myself get weakened by Anthony—or Anthony plus his possessions. But I came to. And so I’m back here to ask Jim if he will have me.”
“He’ll have you,” answered Grace dryly.
“But I’ve been so rotten—so indirect. When I think how superior I felt to you! And I’ve been a coward all along. Why, even now, in the hall I was fearing having children. And here you—alone——”
“Nonsense,” said Grace, “you were nothing of the sort. I’m quite abnormal. Occasionally good comes out of abnormality. That in the crib is the good. But don’t fool yourself into thinking that you want to be like me. No—my Horatia will be like you. Normal—struggling and lovable in her youth and as you will be—normal, sure and loved in her maturity. I’m glad you are taking Jim, though. Jim won’t make you too normal, ever. Wentworth is a nice lad but not what you want. You want the divine fire burning on your own hearth. It’s a hard fire to watch and keep up but together you and Jim can do it. Wentworth would only give you fires to keep you warm.”
Horatia smiled in comprehension.
“I’m awfully glad I know you, Grace.”