“I wish it were not his way.  My inability to comply with his desires isn’t going to render dad or me any happier.”

“Dear old boy, what a frightful predicament you’re in!” she murmured sympathetically.  “I wish I could be quite certain you aren’t really in love with me, Donald.”

“Life would be far rosier for all concerned if I were quite certain I was mistaking an old and exalted friendship for true love.  But I’m not.  You’re the one woman in the world for me, and if I cannot have you, I’ll have none other—­Hello!  Weeping has made this young fellow heavy-lidded, or else my fiction has bored him, for he’s nodding.”

“It’s time for his afternoon nap, Donald.”  She removed the sleepy tot from his arms and carried him away to his crib.  When she returned, she resumed her task of preparing dinner.

“Nan,” Donald queried suddenly, “have I the right to ask you the name of the man who fathered that child?”

“Yes,” she answered soberly; “you have.  I wish, however, that you would not ask me.  I should have to decline to answer you.”

“Well, then, I’ll not ask.  Nevertheless, it would interest me mightily to know why you protect him.”

“I am not at all desirous of protecting him, Donald.  I am merely striving to protect his legal wife.  His marriage to me was bigamous; he undertook the task of leading a dual married life, and, when I discovered it, I left him.”

“But are you certain he married you?”

“We went through a marriage ceremony which, at the time, I regarded as quite genuine.  Of course, since it wasn’t legal, it leaves me in the status of an unmarried woman.”

“So I understood from your father.  Where did this ceremony take place?”

“In San Francisco.”  She came over, sat down beside him, and took one of his hard, big hands in both of hers.  “I’m going to tell you as much as I dare,” she informed him soberly.  “You have a right to know, and you’re too nice to ask questions.  So I’ll not leave you to the agonies of doubt and curiosity.  You see, honey dear, father Brent wanted me to have vocal and piano lessons, and to do that I had to go to Seattle once a week, and the railroad-fare, in addition to the cost of the lessons, was prohibitive until your father was good enough to secure me a position in the railroad-agent’s office in Port Agnew.  Of course, after I became an employe of the railroad company, I could travel on a pass, so I used to go up to Seattle every Saturday, leaving here on the morning train.  Your father arranged matters in some way so that I worked but five days a week.”

“Naturally.  Dad’s a pretty heavy shipper over the line.”