She closed her eyes a moment, seeing, in her suffering, the face of the young mother and her child.
'But go on. And you were away? Please, please go on! When was it? It must have been that spring when—'
She put her hand to her head, trying to remember dates.
'It was just before the Academy,' he said, reluctantly.
'You were out?'
'I had gone to tell Watson and Cuningham the good news.'
His voice dropped.
Her hands caught each other again.
'It was that day—that very day we came to you?'
He nodded.