"Money's not the only thing that counts when it comes to one's own
blood," he said sententiously.
There were no two ways about it, that was his final stand. So, having
assumed them of my services that afternoon, I went straight to Lisbeth.
I found her bending over the youngest baby, and, when I told her, her
body became rigid for an instant, then she stooped lower that I might
not see the shadow that had fallen across her face. Finally she left the
child and came to me with that old look of misery in her face that I had
not seen there for so long, but with far more gentleness.
"Sit down here, Tom," she said, leading me to the window seat, where the
strands of sunlight struck against her head, giving fire to her
dull-brown hair. She had changed but slightly in appearance, I thought,
from the girl that I had known five years before; still there _was_ a
change, a certain assurance was there, and a graciousness that came from
the knowledge that she was loved.
"I think you know," she began, her eyes looking not at me but straight
ahead, "that I've been happy--these five years--though perhaps not how
happy. But in spite of it all--there is always that something--that
_fear_ here--clutching at me--that it may not all be real--that it can't
last."
Again she looked at me and turned away, but not before I had caught a
flash of terror in her eyes.
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