"I am afraid, after all, that your knowledge of man is very limited.
Believe me, we are not made of such clay. A comradeship? A coming in
out of the cold to sit by your fire? Good. But a coming in when
another man sits with you by your fire? No. Comradeship would demand
that I delight in your delights, and yet, do you think for a moment
that I could see you with another man's child in your arms, a child
which might have been mine; with that other man looking out at me
through the child's eyes, laughing at me through its mouth? I say, do
you think I could delight in your delights? No, no; love cannot
shackle itself with white friendships."
She put her hand on his arm.
"Do you think I am wrong?" he asked, bewildered by the strange look in
her face.
She was sobbing quietly.
"You are tired and overwrought. So there, good-night. You must get to
bed."
"No, don't go, not yet." And she arrested him. "No, no; I am foolish.
As you say, I am tired. But listen, Vance. There is much to be done.
We must plan to-morrow's work. Come inside. Father and Baron
Courbertin are together, and if the worst comes, we four must do big
things."
"Spectacular," Jacob Welse commented, when Frona had briefly outlined
the course of action and assigned them their parts. "But its very
unexpectedness ought to carry it through.
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