In the two years that had passed since the whole scheme of his life had been shattered he had barely had time to piece together a make-shift plan that would give him an excuse for living. In this new plan Raymond was the one element of tenderness. But for his love for the boy he would have become as stem and inexorable as the laws in which he dealt. He could not tear Jacqueline out of his heart but he forced himself to remem ber only the bitterness c her perfidy. In the past two weeks the memory had come back more bitterly. How different, he had thought in the long nighrs, if she had been there! They would have watched hand in hand and Whispered h0pe and comfort to each other. One would have slept calmly when wearied, knowing that the ten der love of the other guarded their baby. And what happiness would have been theirs that hour when the fever broke and Raymond passed from stupor to natural sleep! But she had not loved him — she had not even loved her boy; for she had deserted both.