“Well, I could do that,” Julia said thoughtfully.

“You’re terribly decent about leaving ’em,” said Jim, who knew how Julia hated to be away from Anna and George at night, “but, really, I think this’ll be fun—­cards, you know, and a good dinner.”

“That’s to-morrow?”

“To-morrow.”  Jim hesitated.  “I know you’re not crazy about them,” he said.

“I don’t dislike them,” Julia said brightly.  “She’s really lots of fun, but of course he’s the Honourable and he’s a little spoiled.  But I’m really glad to go.  Was Anna nice this morning?”

“Oh, she was lovely—­held her little head up and trotted along, asking intelligent questions, don’t you know—­not like a chattering kid.  She pitched right into me on the governess question; she’s all for Miss Percival’s school, won’t hear of a governess for a minute!”

“And the stern parent compromised on Miss Percival?” smiled Julia.

“Well, I only promised for a year,” Jim said, shamefaced.  “And you were against the governess proposition, too,” he added accusingly.

“Absolutely,” she assured him soothingly.  “I love to have Anna with me in the afternoons, and when Bab’s in town we can send her over there—­she’s no trouble!” Julia turned her face up for a kiss.  “Run and wash your hands, Doctor dear!” said she.

“Yes—­and what are you going to do?” Jim asked jealously.

“I’m going to wait for you right here, and we’ll go down together,” she said pacifically.  Jim took another kiss.

“Happy?” he asked.

Just as he had asked her a thousand times in the past four years.  And always she had answered him, as she did now: 

“Happiest woman in the world, Jim!”

The happiest woman in the world!  Julia, left alone, still stood dreaming in the curtained window, her eyes idly following the quiet life of the sunny street below.  A hansom clattered by, an open carriage in which an old, old couple were taking an airing.  Half a square away she could see the Park, with gray-clad nurses chatting over their racing charges or the tops of perambulators.

But Julia’s thoughts were not with these.  A little frown shaded her eyes, and her mouth was curved by a smile more sad than sweet.  The happiest woman in the world!  Yet, as she stood there, she felt an utter disenchantment with life seize upon her; she felt an overwhelming weariness in the battle that was not yet over.  For Julia knew now that life to her must be a battle; whatever the years to come might hold for her, they could not hold more than an occasional heavenly interval of peace.  Peace for Jim, peace for her mother, peace for her children and for all those whom she loved; but for herself there must be times of an increasing burden, an increasing weariness, and the gnawing of an undying fight with utter discouragement.  Her secret must never be anything but a secret; and yet, to Julia, it sometimes seemed that her only happiness in life would be to shout it to the whole world.