Madame sighed and sank gratefully into the chair he offered her.  In the broad light of day, she looked old and worn.

“Well,” continued the Colonel, with an effort to speak cheerfully, “the blow has fallen.”

“So I hear,” she rejoined, almost in a whisper.  “What tremendous readjustments the heedless young may cause!”

“Yes, but we mustn’t deny them the right.  The eternal sacrifice of youth to age is one of the most pitiful things in nature—­human nature, that is.  The animals know better.”

“Would you remove all opportunity for the development of character?” she inquired, with a tinge of sarcasm.

“No, but I wouldn’t deliberately furnish it.  The world supplies it generously enough, I think.  Allison didn’t ask to be born,” he went on, with a change of tone, “and those who brought him into the world are infinitely more responsible to him than he is to them.”

“One-sided,” returned Madame, abruptly.  “And, if so, it’s the only thing that is.  What of the gift of life?”

“Nothing to speak of,” he responded with a cynicism wholly new to her.  “I wouldn’t go back and live it over, would you?”

“No,” she sighed, “I wouldn’t.  I don’t believe anyone would, even the happiest.”

“Too much character development?”

“Yes,” she admitted, with a shamefaced flush.  “You’ll have a chance to see, now.  It will be right under your nose.”

“No,” he said, with a certain sad emphasis which did not escape her; “it won’t.  I shall be at a respectful distance.”

“Why, Richard!” she cried, half rising from her chair; “what do you mean?  Aren’t you going to live with them in the old home?”

The Colonel shook his head.

“Why?” she demanded.

The Colonel raised his hand to his forehead in a mock salute.  “Orders,” he said, briefly.  “From headquarters.”

“Has Allison—­” she began, in astonishment, but he interrupted her.

“No.”  He inclined his head suggestively toward the house, and she understood.

“The little brute,” murmured Francesca.  “Richard, believe me, I am ashamed.”

“Don’t bother,” he answered, kindly.  “The boy mustn’t know.  You always plan everything for me—­where shall I live now?”

She leaned forward, her blue eyes shining.  “Oh, Richard,” she breathed, “if you only would—­if you could—­come to Rose and me!  We’d be so glad!”

There was no mistaking her sincerity, and the Colonel’s fine old face illumined with pleasure.  Merely to be wanted, anywhere, brings a certain satisfaction.

“I’ll come,” he returned, promptly.  “How good you are!  How good you’ve always been!  I often wonder what I should ever have done without you.”

He turned away and, lightly as a passing cloud, a shadow crossed his face.  Madame saw how hard it would be to part from his son, and, only in lesser degree, his old home.