“There is to be nothing startling in this quiet home of mine, no crashing deep calamity here.”

Only the steadily deepening love between a grown man and a woman mature, both sensible, strong people with a firm control of their destinies.  He felt so sure of this affair.  For now, her tension once relaxed with the success which had come to her after so many long hard years, a new Deborah was revealed, more human in her yieldings.  She let Allan take her off on the wildest little sprees uptown and out into the country.  To Roger she seemed younger, more warm and joyous and more free.  He loved to hear her laugh these nights, to catch the glad new tones in her voice.

“There is to be no tragedy here.”

So, certain of this union and wistful for all he felt it would bring, Roger watched its swift approach.  And when the news came, he was sure he’d been right.  Because it came so quietly.

“It’s settled, dear, at last it’s sure.  Allan and I are to be married.”  She was standing by his chair.  Roger reached up and took her hand: 

“I’m glad.  You’ll be very happy, my child.”

She bent over and kissed him, and putting his arm around her he drew her down on the side of his chair.

“Now tell me all your plans,” he said.  And her answer brought him a deep peace.

“We’re going abroad for the summer—­and then if you’ll have us we want to come here.”  Roger abruptly shut his eyes.

“By George, Deborah,” he said, “you do have a way of getting right into the heart of things!” His arm closed about her with new strength and he felt all his troubles flying away.

“What a time we’ll have, what a rich new life.”  Her deep sweet voice was a little unsteady.  “Listen, dearie, how quiet it is.”  And for some moments nothing was heard but the sober tick-tick of the clock on the mantle.  “I wonder what we’re going to hear.”

And they thought of new voices in the house.

CHAPTER XIX

Edith was radiant at the news.

“I do hope they’re not going to grudge themselves a good long wedding trip!” she exclaimed.

“They’re going abroad,” said Roger.

“Oh, splendid!  And the wedding!  Church or home?”

“Home,” said Roger blissfully, “and short and simple, not a frill.  Just the family.”

“Oh, that’s so nice,” sighed Edith.  “I was afraid she’d want to drag in her school.”

“School will be out by then,” he said.

“Well, I hope it stays out—­for the remainder of her days.  She can’t do both, and she’ll soon see.  Wait till she has a child of her own.”

“Well, she wants one bad enough.”

“Yes, but can she?” Edith asked, with the engrossed expression which came on her pretty florid face whenever she neared such a topic.  She spoke with evident awkwardness.  “That’s the trouble.  Is it too late?  Deborah’s thirty-one, you know, and she has lived her life so hard.  The sooner she gives up her school the better for her chances.”