That evening Mr. Gooch went home with the Ivys whom, as he was now adrift, he purposed adopting. For a long time they sat over the fire discussing the exciting events of the day.
“I could scarcely believe my eyes,” murmured Mrs. Ivy, “when at the verdict,' Not Guilty,' I saw her fling her arms about his neck!”
“Why surprised?” snapped the attorney. “Aren't women born fatuous?”
“But the whole thing is so indelicate, so heartless! A young widow who ought to be mourning beside her husband's grave, and a wild young man who has just escaped the penitentiary. Hasn't suffering taught them anything?”
Gerald, sitting on a hassock before the fire with hands clasped about his knees, looked up with shining eyes:
“You don't understand, Mater! All this has been the price they've paid for each other. A great love like theirs comes high. One must pay for it with suffering. Jove, it was worth it! That one look they gave each other, there at the end—“,
“But the dear, dear Doctor,” interrupted Mrs. Ivy, “laid away only seven months ago!”
“Six months and three weeks,” corrected Mr. Gooch testily.