"Well, the next thing I want to get clear is, if you two did marry, what about Laurel?"
"If we did—" Helen drew in her breath quickly, "why, if we did—if we did—"
"Yes, if you did, what about Laurel?"
Helen let her breath out ever so carefully, ever so carefully drew in another.
"Oh, Laurel. Laurel is yours, Mrs. Dallas. A child is always her mother's, I think."
"You mean, Laurel would keep right on making her headquarters with me, the same as she does now?"
"Why, of course. I am a mother, Mrs. Dallas. Once I was the mother of a little girl. My little girl would be just Laurel's age now. As long as I live I shall never be guilty of robbing any woman of her only little daughter."
Stella glanced down at her shoe, out upon the terrace, back to her shoe again, cleared her throat, then boldly raised her eyes to Helen's.
"But if the woman didn't want her daughter. I mean if she couldn't have her very well, if it was inconvenient—"
"Don't you want Laurel, Mrs. Dallas?" Helen exclaimed.
"Oh, of course, I want her, but you see she's a great expense now, and I haven't many maids—no one to leave her with. I'm quite tied down by her, and—"
"Oh," broke out Helen, and again her eyes were shining, "I'd love to have Laurel! I'd love to have Laurel, even if I had her without Stephen."
"No, that wouldn't do," said Stella, hard and
