For the first time the idea of marriage with Tim presented itself to Sara as a remotely conceivable happening.
Hitherto she had looked upon his love for her as something which only touched the outer fringe of her life--a temporary disturbance of the good-comradely relations that had existed between them.

With the easy optimism of a woman whose heart has always been her own exclusive property she had hoped he would "get over it." But now Elisabeth's appeal, and the knowledge of the pain of love, which love itself had taught her, quickened her mind to a new understanding.
Perhaps Elisabeth felt her yield to the impression she had been endeavoring to create, for she rose and came and stood quite close to her, looking down at her with shining eyes.
"Give my son his happiness!" she said.

And the eternal supplication of all motherhood was in her voice.
Sara made no answer.

She sat very still, with bent head.

Presently there came the sound of light footsteps as Elisabeth crossed the room, and, a moment later, the door closed softly behind her.
She had thrust a new responsibility on Sara's shoulders--the responsibility of Tim's happiness.
"Give my son his happiness!" The poignant appeal of the words rang in Sara's ears.
After all, why not?
As Elisabeth had said, she would be robbing no one by so doing.