'He had been here, I suppose,' I said gently, because I didn't want to seem stern.
'Yes,' said Jane, and that was all.
'My dear,' I said, after a moment, laying my hand on hers, 'is this man worrying you … with attentions?'
Jane laughed, an odd, hard laugh that I didn't like.
'Oh, no,' she said. 'Oh, dear no, mother.'
She got up and began to walk about the room.
'Never mind Arthur,' she said. 'I wouldn't let him get on my mind if I were you, mother…. Let's talk about something else—baby, if you like.'
I perceived from this that Jane was really anxious to avoid discussion of this man, for she did not as a rule encourage me to talk to her about the little life which was coming, as we hoped, next spring. So I turned from the subject of Arthur Gideon. But it remained on my mind.
3
You know how, sometimes, one wakes suddenly in the night with an extraordinary access of clearness of vision, so that a dozen small things which have occurred during the day and passed without making much apparent impression on one's mind stand out sharp and defined in a row, like a troop of soldiers with fixed bayonets all pointing in one direction. You look where they are pointing—and behold, you see some new fact which you never saw before, and you cannot imagine how you came to have missed it.