Wardwell was silent, thinking of the matter in a light in which it had not, as a fact, ever occurred to him. He knew well enough that the average man in his position would not and did not think that he bound himself to anything beyond that which was the custom of the society in which he lived.
"I will only ask you to remember and think of this, Mr. Wardwell. To a man of just mind it is well worth thinking of always. My secretary," he went on, as he touched a button, "will prepare the papers. You can then go to the city clerk and to your priest. If you should need help," he added to Augusta in parting, "in the matter of bringing your mother home, I hope that you will command me."
The secretary, a young priest with the face of a big, solemn eyed boy, came and conducted them to an outer office.
When they were again in the street, Wardwell faced Augusta and asked:
"Did you ever think of that, what the Cardinal said at the last?"
"No, I did not," she answered. "It wouldn't affect us at all, Jimmie?"
She had spoken so quickly and confidently that Wardwell thought that she had not understood what the Cardinal had said. But the next moment he knew that he was entirely mistaken. Augusta understood and accepted everything with steady, unflinching eyes.
She said:
"I'd never wish to keep even a kitten that wanted to go away from me."