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 your father was here last August because I wanted to be sure I could have children, now, David. I thought Sam was dead; I had good reason to think so; but before you and I had children, didn't I have to be absolutely sure about it, David?"

"What've children to do with this?"

"Why, everything, David. They were all the trouble with your father, weren't they—because I wasn't having them? That was why he stopped taking your money, wasn't it? So I thought I'd have them, David; but I had to make sure then—didn't I?—that Sam was dead. So I wrote Flora Bolton way back in August to find out if the family had ever heard anything of Sam since he was lost. She didn't write back to me, as I thought she would; she didn't answer me at all, though I went and went to the post office to get her letter. She'd sent my letter to Sam in England for him to answer; but I didn't know that, I kept on going to the post office for her letter for weeks, David, until that day I saw Alice in Evanston. I went down to the post office on that day, too; and there was nothing for me then. So I decided it must be all right then about children, David; I decided I wouldn't go again. I didn't go again until this morning; I wouldn't have then, but you'd been away three days. You went to Rock Island to Alice, David, and you were sure you were coming back to have lunch with me the next day; but you didn't. You went home after you'd been with Alice and you just telegraphed me; not a line, not a word about me, David. 'I'll stay another day,' you said, and 'explain later.' So this morning I went down to the post office again to see if there