They did not speak of it again, but something had happened to their new-found oneness. They both tried to be perfectly natural and at ease, but the ghost of Martin was in the room.
The next day he came. He was all concern at Jane's white face. He knew in a second what a crisis she had passed through, and so he made no least reference to anything that had gone before, anything that was to be. He was dear, big Martin, delighted with the baby, courteous to Jerry, at ease in the midst of their self-consciousness. So in the end he dominated the scene.
Jerry and Anna took their small charge for a drive, leaving Martin and Jane alone. As they departed, Jane was filled with terror. She was so afraid of emotion.
"Jerry is an enemy to be proud of," said Martin.
"Jerry is a fine man, Martin," Jane answered.
He looked at her long, holding her steady eyes with his.
"You have suffered much, beloved," he said softly. "I did not come to intrude, or to demand an answer. I came because I had to know what had hurt you."
"I thought I had brought Baby here and risked his life. If he had died, I should have died, too," she said simply.
"I know. Let us not speak of it at all. Let's talk of the new book."
"The new book? Why, Martin, I had forgotten!" she exclaimed.