“Haven’t you changed your mind, Julia?  Can’t you relent?”

“You know what I think about marrying.”

“I thought I did.  But to-night when I looked at you looking at those kids, I knew differently.  You want to be married and have children of your own.  I don’t know as much about me—­don’t know,” he said in a slight break of despair, “that I come into the picture much.”

It was dark enough to hide her flush.

“When I ask ’Can’t you relent’?” said Rokeby, “I ought to say instead ‘Can’t you confess?’ That’s what you don’t want to do.”

“If—­” she began.

“Yes, dear.  If?”

“If I married you—­”

She paused a long while and he declared passionately:  “You’re afraid to risk marriage and yet you want to.  You don’t know what to do.  You like being loved; you pretend you don’t, but you do.  You’re feeling how sweet it all is.  But you will not own it even to yourself.”

And she answered:  “I am afraid.”

“I know you are,” said Rokeby; “and so am I. Haven’t you thought of that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, look around and see the muddle and mess most people make of the contract.”

“That’s what I mean.”

“So do I. Why shouldn’t I be afraid as much as you are?  If we got married and muddled and messed things up, wouldn’t it hurt me as much as you?”

“Not according to what I’ve seen.  Most men—­”

“I’m not most men.  I’m just me.  You’re you.  We’re different.  Besides, we’ve seen and thought and argued it out to ourselves as well as together.  Couldn’t you risk it?”

“You know what I want; complete freedom.”

“Well, you should have it.  And you know what I want?”

“Yes?”

“Complete freedom, too.”

“Oh?” she said uncertainly, with a jealous note in her voice.

He laughed.  “Couldn’t I have it, then?  Well, to tell you a secret, you couldn’t either.  But another secret is that, probably, neither of us would really want it.”

“That’s true.  It’s dreadful the way married people learn to cling to each other.”

“Well, what else would you cling to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well; won’t you risk it?”

“I think, perhaps, I dare if you dare.”

The biggest moment of Rokeby’s life was when he took her, for the second time, into his arms, and felt her lips respond to his.  She shut her eyes and saw again the vision of the three cots side by side in a dim room; and his eyes, on her face, saw the mother-ecstasy there.  “You wonder!” he exclaimed.

“Why?”

“To give me such a fright when all the while you’ve been feeling this!”

It was a long drive from Hampstead, and all the time she was within his arms, and all the time he told her of all they would be to each other; of how he loved her.  And at last she stood alone in her flat, with her bedroom lights switched on, looking at a radiant creature in the glass, and crying within herself: