“So do I. But I’m afraid nobody can help me.  And yet, perhaps a fresh eye—­a woman’s clearer insight—­” He paused irresolute, then succumbed to temptation.  “Look here, Miss Urquhart, I’ll just tell you how it is, if you’ll promise not to speak of it again.  You are no gossip, I know”—­how did he know?—­“and it will be such a blessed relief to tell somebody.  And perhaps you could advise me, after all—­”

“Let me try,” she broke in encouragingly.  For an instant her pearly hand touched his sleeve.  “You may trust me,” she said.

“I’m sure of it—­I’m sure of it,” he responded warmly.  He drew his chair closer, took a moment to collect himself, and plunged headlong.

“You see, she was related to the people my poor wife lived with when we were first married, and she was a lot with her—­it was lonesome for her, with me away at sea—­and they got to be sort of chums.  She was with us the night I lost my poor girl—­I can’t talk about that now, but some day I’ll tell you—­and I know she was awfully fond of her.  That was just the difficulty.”

“You are speaking,” queried Alice gently, “of the person who has the baby?”

“Exactly.  I see you begin to understand.”

“I think so,” said Alice, with a smile broad enough to be visible in moonlight.  “But what was the difficulty?”

“Well, you know, being so really fond of her, and all that—­wishing to do it for the sake of her dear friend—­what could I say, especially as those women were killing the unfortunate brat between them?  She was not so very young, and was evidently clever at managing—­”

“Yes,” interposed Alice, smiling still.

“And peculiarly situated for undertaking the job, having a good home, and only an old mother, who let her do what she liked.  And awfully set on the baby from the first, and wanting an object in life, as she said.  But chiefly it was for Lily’s sake.  To see Lily’s child messed about by just anybody, and killed with arrowroot and stuff, was more than she could stand—­to tell the truth, I couldn’t stand it either—­and she begged me to let her have it to look after, as there was no female friend or relative nearer to it than she was.  What could I do?  She lived in a nice, healthy spot, and there was the old mother with her experience, and I was obliged to go to sea; and—­and—­well, I just had to say “yes”, and be thankful to say it.  We got the—­the doctor found a—­we engaged the sort of nurse that does everything, you know—­ a fine, strapping young woman, in the pink of condition; and—­and—­ well, there it was.  And at the first blush the worst of the trouble seemed over, instead of just beginning.  I gave up my house, and went off to sea, miserable enough, as you may suppose, but at least with an easy mind about the boy.  As far as he was concerned—­as far as my poor Lily was concerned, I felt I had acted for the best.  Indeed, I don’t for the life of me understand how any man could have acted otherwise, under the circumstances.”