He Might Even Marry Her

"I don't see why you must have her out of the way entirely," hesitated Molly Merriweather, looking up into Jordan Morse's face. "Couldn't you send her to some girls' place?"

"Now you don't know anything about it, Molly," answered the man impatiently. "If she doesn't disappear absolutely, the cobbler and Theodore'll find her."

"That's so," said Molly, meditatively, "but it seems horrible----"

Morse interrupted her with a sarcastic laugh.

"That's what Theodore would think, and more, too, if he thought any one was going to harm a hair of the child's head."

Molly flamed red.

"To save her, he might even marry her," Morse went on relentlessly.

Molly gestured negatively.

"He wouldn't. He couldn't!" she cried stormily. She had never permitted herself to face such a catastrophe save when she was angry.

Jordan Morse contemplated his wife a short space of time.

"I can't understand your falling in love with a man who hasn't breathed a word of affection for you," he said tentatively.

Molly showed him an angry face.

"You're not a woman, so you can't judge," she replied.

"Thank God for that!" retorted Morse.

"We wouldn't have had any of this trouble," he continued, at length, "if you'd let me know about the boy. There's no excuse for you, absolutely none. You know very well I would have come back."

All the softness in the woman turned to hardness.

"How many times," she flamed, "must I tell you I was too angry to write or beg you to come, Jordan?... I've told you over and over."