"Oh, don't say that!" the man protested, in haste. "I would not
for a moment accuse her of that. She was Lily's friend; it was for her
--it was out of pure womanly compassion for the motherless child; at
any rate, in the beginning. And even now I have no right whatever to
suppose--"

"But you know it, all the same. Every word you have said to me tells me
that you know it. You may as well be frank."

He squirmed a little in his chair, but confessed as required.

"Well--but it's a caddish thing to say--I think she does expect it.
And hasn't she the right to expect it? However, that's neither here nor
there. The point is that, in common honesty and manliness, I should
repay her if I can; and there's no other way--at least, I can't see
any other way. It is my fault, and not hers, that I don't take to the
notion; for a better woman never walked, nor one that would make a
better mother to the boy. But, somehow, you DO like to have your free
choice, don't you?" He had come as far as this--that he could
entertain the idea of choice, which meant a second choice.

"It would be utterly wrong, absolutely immoral, downright wicked, to
forego it," Alice declaimed, with energy. "It would be nothing short of
criminal, Mr Carey."

She argued the point with eloquence, even excitedly; and when she had
brought him to reason--very willing to be brought--leaned back in her
chair with a joyous air.