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 was dead, and the new one suddenly pitied her from a great distance, as he pitied Naomi. It was as if the weakness gave him a clairvoyance, a second sight, which illuminated all the confusion of mind that had preceded the long night.

Lying there, with his eyes closed, her passionate cry, "Philip, my boy!" burned itself into his brain. He was, he knew, unworthy of that consuming love she had for him.

After a long time he heard her asking, "Philip, are you awake?"

"Yes, Ma." But he did not open his eyes.

"I have some good news that will delight you."

What could it be? Perhaps she had arranged his return to Megambo. She would think that was good news.

"It's about Naomi. You're a father now, Philip . . . twice a father, Philip. You've two children. They were twins."

The knot of perplexity which had been tormenting his brain suddenly cleared away. Of course! That was what he couldn't remember about Naomi. She had been going to have a baby, and now she had had two. Still he did not open his eyes. It was more impossible now than ever. He did not answer her, and presently Emma asked, "You heard what I said, Philip?"

"Yes, Ma."

"You're glad, aren't you?"

He answered her weakly, "Of course . . . why, of course, I'm glad."

Again there was a long silence. He was ashamed again, because he had been forced to lie, ashamed be-