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Updated: June 20, 2025
Women do not make mistakes about the real thing." "Never, Lyn, never." "Betty, once when I thought Con had wronged me, I wanted to come to you I almost did but I couldn't then! Now that I am sure I have wronged him, it is easy to come to you you are so understanding!" The radiance of Lynda's face rather startled Betty. Abandon, relief, glorified it until it seemed a new a far more beautiful face.
There was now no doubt in Truedale's heart concerning Lynda's motive for marrying him; nor did Lynda for one moment question Truedale's deep affection for her. Yet they waited quite subconsciously at first, then with tragic stubbornness for something to sweep obstacles aside without either surrendering his position. "He must want me so that nothing can sway him again," thought Lynda.
She was sitting alone with the child during a spell of delirium, when suddenly the little hot hands reached up passionately, and the name "mother" quivered on the dry lips in a tone unfamiliar to Lynda's ears. She bent close. "What, little Ann?" she whispered. The big, burning eyes looked puzzled. Then: "Take me to to the Hollow to Miss Lois Ann!" "Sh!" panted Lynda, every nerve tingling.
It was no wonder Truedale had often remarked that Lynda's work was so individual and personal she breathed the breath of life in it before she let it go from her. Truedale had always been thankful that marriage had not taken from Lynda her joy in her profession. He would have hated to know that he interfered with so real and vital a gift.
Sharply he recalled the night long ago when Truedale groaned and threw his letters on the fire. "Lyn, I hardly dare ask this, knowing you as I do you are not the sort to compromise with honour selfishly or idiotically but, Lyn, the the other love, it was not an evil thing?" The tears sprang to Lynda's eyes and she flung her arms around her brother's neck and holding him so whispered: "No! no!
She felt she must get there before Brace arrived and lay her trouble before the astoundingly clear, unfaltering mind and heart of the little woman who, so short a time ago, had come into their lives. But after a few blocks, Lynda's steps halted.
But this room upon which he was now looking was different from anything he had ever before seen in the workshop. It interested and puzzled him. Lynda's specialties were libraries and living rooms; there were two or three things she never attempted and this? Truedale looked closer. How pretty it was like a child's playroom and how fanciful!
What right has a man to fall from what he knows a woman holds highest, and then look to her to change her ideals to fit his pattern?" Arriving at this conclusion, Truedale wrapped the tattered shreds of his self-respect about him and accepted, as best he could, the prospect of Lynda's adjustment to the future. Brace and Lynda did not return in time to see Truedale that night.
Truedale, without premeditation, crossed the room and, sitting in his uncle's chair the long-empty chair, lifted Lynda's face and held it in his hand. "Lyn," he said, fixing his dark, troubled eyes upon hers, "Lyn, who is Ann's father?" Lynda had not been crying; her eyes were dry and faithful! "You, Con," she said, quietly.
There was a dying fire on the hearth and the room was in order except for the wide table upon which still lay the work Lynda had been engaged with before she left the house. Truedale sat down before it and gradually became absorbed, while not really taking in the meaning of what he saw. He had often studied and appreciated Lynda's original way of solving her problems.
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