You _mustn't_ let me have my way
then--simply clutch me, be cruel, brutal, anything only don't let me go.
Then, if you keep me through that, you'll always keep me."
To Peter it was almost as though she were talking in her sleep, something,
there in the old, lumbering cab that was given to her by some one else to
say something to which she herself would not give credit.
"That's all right, you darling, you darling, you darling." He covered her
face, her eyes with kisses. "I'll never let you go--never." He felt her
quiver a little under his arms.
"Don't mind, Peter, my horrible, beastly character. Just keep me for a
little, train me--and then later I'll be such a wife to you, _such_ a
wife!"
Then she drew his head down. His lips touched her body just above her
dress, where her cloak parted.
She whispered:
"There's something else."
She raised her face from his coat and looked up at him. Her cheeks were
stained with crying and her eyes, large and dark, held him furiously as
though he were the one place of safety.
He caught her very close.
"What is it?..."
* * * * *
That night, long after he, triumphant with the glory of her secret, had
fallen asleep, she lay, staring into the dark, with frightened eyes.
CHAPTER VI
BIRTH OF THE HEIR
I
Peter's child was born on a night of frost when the stars were hard and
fierce and a full moon, dull gold, flung high shadows upon the town.
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