child. I'll treat her as my very own, but she will always be yours. You will not lose her. You shall see her often. We'll arrange that. Oh, I wonder if I could have done so big a thing for my little girl."
Stella dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief through her veil, struggled to her feet, dabbed her eyes again, bit her lip hard—Good gracious, she mustn't break down and bawl like a baby.
"I'm an awful old fool sometimes lately," she murmured.
"Don't go. Sit down again. Please. We've so much to talk about. I've got so much to learn."
"No, I can't. Laurel thinks I'm in Milhampton, and I must hustle along back to Boston to-night or she'll get suspicious. You've got my idea. There's no need of staying any longer. You tell Stephen I'm ready to get the divorce any day now, and the quicker the better. Only tell him, for goodness' sake, don't put that man Morley Smith on it. I don't believe I could meet that excrescence and be decent to him. Every time I think—but never mind. That's all over. Oh, by the way, one thing more—when Laurel is down here this September visiting you, don't tell her what's up. I can't stand long-drawn-out good-byes. I may mention I'm getting a divorce, but I shan't tell her what for. Don't let on a word till we're ready to shoot. You and Stephen get married, have Laurel down for a Sunday. I'll send her clothes on afterwards. Something like that. I've thought it out. No soft-music, sob-stuff for me, thank you. Is this the living-room?"
