“That, my beloved,” Billy said, “until the children grow up, is just what we can’t get — help.”

Julia was silent.

“Julia,” he went on, after an interval, in which neither spoke, “won’t you marry me?  I’m lonely.”

The poignant look — it was almost excruciating now — came into Julia’s eyes.

“Not now, Billy,” she answered.

“And yet you say you love me!”

The sadness went.  Julia’s face became limpid as water, bright as light, warm as flame.  “I love you,” she said.  “I love you!  I love you!” She went on reiterating these three words.  And with every iteration, the thrill in her voice seemed to deepen.  “And, Billy — .”

“Yes.”

“I’m not quite sure when — but I know I’m going to marry you some time.”

“I’ll wait, then,” Billy promised.  “As long as I know you love me, I can wait until — the imagination of man has not conceived the limit yet.”

“Well, how have you been to-day?” Ralph asked.  But before Peachy could speak, he answered himself in a falsetto voice that parodied her round, clear accents, I want to fly!  I want to fly!  I want to fly!” His tone was not ill-tempered, however; and his look was humorously a affectionate, as one who has asked the same question many times and received the same answer.

“I do want to fly, Ralph,” Peachy said listlessly.  “Won’t you let me?  Oh, please let my wings grow again?”

Ralph shook his head inflexibly.  “Couldn’t do it, my dear.  It’s not womanly.  The air is no place for a woman.  The earth is her home.”

“That’s not argument,” Peachy asserted haughtily.  “That’s statement.  Not that I want to argue the question.  My argument is unanswerable.  Why did we have wings, if not to fly.  But I don’t want to quarrel — .”  Her voice sank to pleading.  “I’d always be here when you came back.  You’d never see me flying.  It would not prevent me from doing my duty as your wife or as Angela’s mother.  In fact, I could do it better because it would make me so happy and well.  After a while, I could take Angela with me.  Oh, that would be rapture!” Peachy’s eyes gleamed.

Ralph shook his head.  “Couldn’t think of it, my dear.  The clouds are no place for my wife.  Besides, I doubt if your wings would ever grow after the clipping to which we’ve submitted them.  Now, put something on, and I’ll carry you down on the beach.”

“Tell me about the New Camp, and what you did to-day!” Peachy asked, after an interval in which she visibly struggled for control.

“Oh, Lord, ask anything but that,” Addington exclaimed with a sudden gust of his old irritability.  “I work hard enough all day.  When I get home, I want to talk about something else.  It rests me not to think of it.”

“But, Ralph,” Peachy entreated, “I could help you.  I know I could.  I have so many ideas about things.  You know Pete says I’m a real artist.  It would interest me so much if you would only talk over the building plans with me.”