The eyes of Edith came up level with his own.
“Yes I know,” she said.
Margaret Ormsby jumped up from her chair, her eyes swimming.
“Stop,” she cried. “I do not want you. I would never marry you now. You belong to her. You are Edith's.”
McGregor's voice became soft and quiet.
“Oh, I know,” he said; “I know! I know! But I want children. Look at Edith. Do you think she could bear children to me?”
A change came over Edith Carson. Her eyes hardened and her shoulders straightened.
“That's for me to say,” she cried, springing forward and clutching his arm. “That is between me and God. If you intend to marry me come now and do it. I was not afraid to give you up and I'm not afraid that I shall die bearing children.”
Dropping McGregor's arm Edith ran across the room and stood before Margaret. “How do you know you are more beautiful or can bear more beautiful children?” she demanded. “What do you mean by beauty anyway? I deny your beauty.” She turned to McGregor. “Look,” she cried, “she does not stand the test.”
Pride swept over the woman that had come to life within the body of the little milliner. With calm eyes she stared at the people in the room and when she looked again toward Margaret there was a challenge in her voice.