And over it all she pondered and pored, and used a dictionary and shuddered, frightening herself into a morbid condition until, desperately scared, she even thought of going to Duane about it; but could not find the hardihood to do it or the vocabulary necessary.

Now Duane was gone; and the book lay there between her knees, all its technical vagueness menacing her with unknown terrors; and she felt that she could endure it alone no longer.

She wrote him: 

“You have not been gone an hour, and already I need you.  I wish to ask you about something that is troubling me; I’ve asked Kathleen and she doesn’t know; and Dr. Bailey was horrid to me, and I tried to find out from Scott whether he knew, but he wasn’t much interested.  So, Duane, who else is there for me to ask except you?  And I don’t exactly know whether I may speak about such matters to you, but I’m rather frightened, and densely ignorant.

“It is this, dear; in a medical book which I read, it says that hereditary taints are transmissible; that sometimes they may skip the second generation but only to appear surely in the third.  But it also says that the taint is very likely to appear in every generation.

    “Duane, is this true?  It has worried me sick since I read it. 
    Because, my darling, if it is so, is it not another reason for our
    not marrying?

“Do you understand?  I can and will eradicate what is threatening me, but if I marry you—­you do understand, don’t you?  Isn’t it all right for me to ask you whether, if we should have children, this thing would menace them?  Oh, Duane—­Duane!  Have I any right to marry?  Children come—­God knows how, for nobody ever told me exactly, and I’m a fool about such things—­but I summoned up courage to ask Dr. Bailey if there was any way to tell before I married whether I would have any, and he said I would if I had any notion of my duty and any pretence to self-respect.  And I don’t know what he means and I’m bewildered and miserable and afraid to marry you even when I myself become perfectly well.  And that is what worries me, Duane, and I have nobody in the world to ask about it except you.  Could you please tell me how I might learn what I ought to know concerning these things without betraying my own vital interest in them to whomever I ask?  You see, Kathleen is as innocent as I.

    “Please tell me all you can, Duane, for I am most unhappy.”

* * * * *

“The house is very still and full of sunlight and cut flowers.  Scott is meditating great deeds, lying flat in the dirt.  Kathleen sits watching him from the parapet.  And I am here in the library, with that ghastly book at my elbow, pouring out all my doubts and fears to the only man in the world—­whom God bless and protect wherever he may be—­Oh, Duane, Duane, how I love you!”