a short look
over the dinner-table to judge, by its arrangement, something of what
he might be given to eat. Before he had made a guess, Marie ran in.

"Guess!" she cried, "guess what's happened!"

"Dunno, old girl," said Osborn.

"That dear darling Mr. Rokeby has sent us the _most gorgeous_
baby-carriage."

"The devil he has!" said Osborn, with deep feeling, straightening his
shoulders as if a burden had been lifted from them.

"It's down in the lobby with the other prams; you must go down and see
it."

"I will after dinner. By Jove, that's good of Rokeby! I wonder what
made him think of it."

"I can't imagine; he _is_ thoughtful, isn't he?"

"What's it like?"

"It's pale grey, with ball bearings; and C-springs, and an umbrella
basket. There's no enamel; it's all nickel. And the upholstery...."

"By Jove, Desmond's done the youngster proud, what?"

"We couldn't _possibly_ have bought such a carriage for him,
Osborn!"

Osborn began to feel flattered as well as pleased. He had always
noticed, of course, the very particular attraction and beauty and the
early cleverness of his son, but he had not guessed that the little
beggar had so impressed that confirmed bachelor.

"Rokeby thinks no end of the kid, you know," he said, sitting down to
the table.

"That's not to be wondered at, is it?" replied the enthusiastic
mother.

Osborn caught her hand as she passed by him and kissed it.

"I've been thinking about you--about us--to-day," he confided.

"Have you?" she said timidly.

"We--we were both," Osborn hesitated, "both a bit--mad last night,
weren't we?"

He pressed her hand before he relinquished it so that she might
proceed to the kitchen to dish up the dinner. And she went with a
lighter heart because of his affection.

Opposite him, beneath the candles which she still lighted with
pleasure each night, she regarded him with a new earnestness. The
quarrel was over, it seemed; but it had opened for her a door through
which she had never passed before, the door into the darkness of human
hearts, and she felt as if she would never forget that horrific step
across the unveiled threshold. She watched Osborn steadily yet
unobtrusively while his mind was given to the meal; she saw him eat
with a great hunger, and the rather tired look which had marked his
face when he first came in disappeared as he ate. Men who perforce eat
lunch very frugally look forward keenly to a good meal, and Osborn had
no ey