"There is ... a child?"
He nodded speechlessly.
"Maurice, I will love it—"
He was too overcome to speak. Here she was, this irritating, foolish, faithful woman, coming, with outstretched, forgiving arms—to rescue him from his long deceit!
"I have known it," she said, "for nearly two years."
"And you never spoke of it!"
"I couldn't."
"I want to tell you everything, Eleanor. It was—that Dale woman."
She pressed very close to him: "I know."
He wondered swiftly how she knew, but he did not stop to ask; his words rushed out; it was as if the jab of a lancet had opened a hidden wound: "I never cared a copper for her. Never! But—it happened. I was angry about something, and,—Oh, I'm not excusing myself. There isn't any excuse! But I met her, and somehow—Oh, Eleanor!"