her hair down in braids, Gretchen style, and fastened
great pink bows of ribbon in them. As her condition became more
involved, only the lightest morning gowns were given her--soft,
comfortable things in which she sat about speculating practically about
the future. She had changed from a lean shapeliness to a swollen,
somewhat uncomely object, but she made the best of a bad situation.
Eugene saw her and felt sorry. It was the end of winter now, with snow
blowing gaily or fiercely about the windows, and the park grounds
opposite were snow-white. She could see the leafless line of sentinel
poplars that bordered the upper edges of Morningside. She was calm,
patient, hopeful, while the old obstetrician shook his head gravely to
the house surgeon.

"We shall have to be very careful. I shall take charge of the actual
birth myself. See if you can't build up her strength. We can only hope
that the head is small."

Angela's littleness and courage appealed to him. For once in a great
many cases he really felt sorry.

The house surgeon did as directed. Angela was given specially prepared
food and drink. She was fed frequently. She was made to keep perfectly
quiet.

"Her heart," the house surgeon reported to his superior, "I don't like
that. It's weak and irregular. I think there's a slight lesion."

"We can only hope for the best," said the other solemnly. "We'll try and
do without ether."

Eugene in his peculiar mental state was not capable of realizing the
pathos of all this. He was alienated temperamentally and emotionally.
Thinking that he cared for his wife dearly, the nurse and the house
surgeon were for not warning him. They did not want to frighten him. He
asked several times whether he could be present during the delivery, but
they stated that it would be dangerous and trying. The nurse asked
Angela if she had not better advise him to stay away. Angela did, but
Eugene felt that in spite of his alienation, she needed him. Besides, he
was curious. He thought Angela would stand it better if he were near,
and now that the ordeal was drawing nigh, he was beginning to understand
how desperate it might be and to think it was only fair that he should
assist her. Some of the old pathetic charm of her littleness was coming
back to him. She might not live. She would have to suffer much. She had
meant no real evil to him--only to hold him. Oh, the bitterness and the
pathos of this welter of earthly emotions. Why should they b