"When are you going to get your exercise?"
"Naturally I cannot take any, unless I push the baby carriage."
"Good Lord! Go get your things on. I'll watch him."
"Thank you, Jerry, but I cannot accept sacrifices. It must be your job and mine, and nobody abused."
"I thought it over last night. I agree. Your job and mine; nobody abused. Now, scat."
"Much obliged, Jerry; that's fair and square."
This time the agreement held. Jerry learned to handle the occasional outbursts of his son without calling for help. In the meantime Jane's work was growing. Martin Christiansen returned after a month away from town, and Jane sent him a dozen chapters of the rewritten version. It brought him to the studio, post haste. Jerry was painting, so they sat alone in the reception-room.
"But, Jane, what has happened to you?" he demanded.
"Life, experience, marriage, baby; all the big things have happened to me since I began that book. I'm only just beginning to be me, Martin."
"I was astonished, Jane! It was as if sunshine suddenly played over a gray room. The room was charming, well appointed, choice, but a trifle cold. But now, you've let the sun into it. It's warm, it's human, it's home."