hurt in his expression should have been sufficient to cause me not only to immediately abandon further thoughts along this line as unworthy, but to be heartily ashamed that I had ever voiced such thoughts to him.
But my confession was made only because I sought, in mental desperation, a way to make my child my very own. I even mentioned one man who at that time seemed logical for my own peculiar marriage purposes. Mr. Harding faced me on the couch in his private office.
"Don't you think he would be a safe person to marry?" I asked him earnestly.
"Well, Nan, do you think you could love this fellow?" Mr. Harding inquired of me gently. I did not look directly at him, though I answered him quickly.
"Of course not, but that wouldn't matter!"
Mr. Harding's voice was firm and I knew he was looking at me searchingly.
"Oh, yes, dearie, it would!" It was as though he were reasoning with a small child, I felt, one who did not know what was good for her to do.
"That would be grossly unfair to the man, Nan darling," he went on very gently, as I continued to avoid his eyes, looking down at my hand which played with my "wedding ring" from Mr. Harding.
"Well," I said finally with emphasis, raising my eyes now to my sweetheart, "You know I never shall love anybody but you!"
What relief and joy overspread his face! The exclamation that escaped his lips seemed almost a sob as he crushed me to him. How I loved him for wanting me so! But how I also loved my child and wanted her!
