"More than anything in the world. But you value it yourself?"
"Beyond anything I possess."
"Then how can I take it from you?"
"There is only one person in the world I would give it to. She has it, and I am contented."
It was impossible to hear the strain any longer without crying out, and to give physical expression to her feelings she lifted the portrait to her lips again and kissed and kissed it.
He smiled at her, she smiled back; the silence was hard to break, but just as they were on the edge of the precipice the big shock-head of the little boy looked in on them through the chink of the door and cried:
"You needn't ask me to come in, 'cause I won't!"
By the blessed instinct of the motherhood latent in her, Roma understood the boy in a moment. "If I were a gentleman, I would, though," she said.
"Would you?" said Joseph, and in he came, with a face shining all over.
"Hurrah! A piano!" said Roma, leaping up and seating herself at the instrument. "What shall I play for you, Joseph?"