"

"Why should I, darling?" he said, surprised.

The three children, encouraged, came forward. George had the chosen
book under his arm and, opening it at a favourite story, he laid it on
his mother's knee. Nursing the baby and with Minna snuggled into her
other arm, she prepared to read.

"Come and sit on my knee, old chap," Osborn whispered to George.

The child came dutifully, but his attention was for his mother. She
began to read in her light, clear voice, and for some while that was
the only sound in the room; the man and the three children listened,
as if entranced. During the progress of the reading Ann came in
without interrupting and took the baby away to bed.

A quarter of an hour later it was Minna's turn, and only George
remained; he was eager to tell his mother of the day's experiences at
school; clambering down from his father's lap he went to her, and,
with an arm flung about her neck, began an involved account.

She listened with interest and comprehension. And Osborn looked at
George's rapt face and her loving one, and drew a sharp comparison
between what mattered and trash.

At last George went, and the husband and wife were alone again.

He started to the door on a sudden impulse.

"I'll unpack and get those things," he said over his shoulder.

"Yes, do," she nodded, "before George goes to sleep. Your things are
in the dressing-room, and he will be there."

"We've simply got to have another flat," he replied, with a pleasant
sensation of the power to pay for it.

For a few minutes Marie Kerr sat quiet, staring at the fire. The
home-coming, so stimulating to Osborn, had for her been inexpressibly
stale. She was not thrilled; she was left cold as the November night
outside. The new and pretty habits of her life were in peril of being
broken, and her reluctance that it should be so was keen. She got up
and mended the fire and patted the cushions absently. She could hear
Osborn talking to his son, and Ann busy in the kitchen.

A man in the house was once more going to set the clock of life.

Before Osborn had found what he sought she went to her bedroom. The
baby and Minna were sleeping side by side in their cots, a screen
drawn round them to shade them from the light. Deep in the perfect
slumber of childhood, they did not awake at her careful entry. She
switched up the electric light over her dressing-table, and began to
change her blouse and skirt for the black frock in which she dined.