gue ideas about plenty of hot water for
some purpose unknown. He brought Marie tea and she would not let him
leave her again; she clung to him as to a saviour, but he felt so
helpless.

The doctor arrived before the nurse; the nurse while he was still
there. "It won't happen yet," he told them. "You must be a brave girl;
nurse'll tell you what to do; and I'll look in again at mid-day."

"You'll stay, doctor?" she cried.

"You won't leave her, doctor," stammered Osborn aghast.

"You'll be all right," said the doctor to Marie; "you've got nurse and
I'll be here again long before you want me." Outside in the corridor
he faced Osborn's protests.

"My dear fellow, I can't stay. It wouldn't do any good if I could.
Remember she isn't the only woman in the world to go through it."

"She's the only woman in the world to me!" cried Osborn in a burst of
agony.

The doctor advised Osborn to eat breakfast before he left him, and
when he had gone the two terrified young people hung upon the wisdom
of the nurse.

Before the doctor came again Osborn was shut out of the chamber of
anguish, but the flat was small and from the farthest corner of it he
heard Marie's moans and cries and prayers.

He stood with his hands over his ears, praying, too, praying that soon
it would be over, that she might not cease to love him. "How can she
ever love me again?" he thought over and over.

It seemed to him a dreadful death for love to die.

* * * * *

As September dusk was falling, after a silence like fate through the
flat, Osborn heard his child's cry. Half an hour after that the doctor
came out of the birth-place. He walked through the open sitting-room
door to the spot where Osborn stood as if transfixed and saw how the
young man had suffered; but he had seen scores of such young men
suffer similarly before. He glanced around the room and saw the dead
fire in the grate. He himself looked weary.

"Buck up!" he said, with a hand on Osborn's shoulder. "You've a jolly
little boy. You look bad! What have you been doing all this time?"

"Listening," Osborn gasped.

"And you've not done any good at it, have you?" the doctor said,
shaking his head. "You might as well have cleared off, you know, on to
the Heath--saved yourself a bit. However--Yes, I quite understand how
you felt. You'd better have something--a cup of tea, a whisky and
soda."

"She?" Osborn uttered.

"She's doing all right; I shall loo