a wonder, isn’t he?”
“Yes, indeed. He’s a lovely baby—and how hungry he is!”
“It’s a queer thing, nurse, how well I am with this baby. I mean, I had so much worry with my husband’s accident. Then, having everything strange about me. After my little girl was born I was a wreck. But now the doctor says I can sail for home at the end of this month.”
“That’s lovely. And what a prize to take home with you!”
“Do you know, I can feel a difference in him since the last time I nursed him. He’s quicker and stronger somehow.”
“Yes, it’s surprising how they change.”
The baby had nursed for the second time that day when his father came softly into the room. He stood looking down at the pair in the bed with a tender, somewhat tired, smile.
“Well, Camilla,” he said, “you look more like yourself this morning.”
“I am. I had a pretty good night.”
“That’s fine. How’s the youngster?”
“You can see for yourself.” She drew the covers back from his head. The baby opened his eyes. He spread his fingers till his hand looked like a pink starfish.
Robert Wylde touched him gingerly. “He’s pretty red. Is that all right? Janet wasn’t quite so blistered-looking.”
“Janet’s like me. He’s going to be fair. He’s like you.”
“Gosh.” He gave a sigh, for it still tired him to stand. He limped to a chair and sat down. His stick made a clatter as he put it on the floor. His wife started and her grey eyes widened in annoyance. “Goodness, you’re noisy.”
“I’m sorry, Camilla.”
“Baby jumped from head to foot.”
“Too bad. I can’t get used to this cane.”
Suddenly she remembered his roses. She exclaimed:
“Oh, darling, thanks so much for the lovely roses! Just look at them! They make even this room cheerful. Come and kiss me again.”
He smiled, got up and limped to the bed. He bent over her and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Gosh,” he said, “I’m glad you’ve come through this so well, Camilla.” He examined the roses. “They are nice, aren’t they? I got the best they had.”
“They’re lovely.” She looked toward the window. “What is it doing out? If the windows were cleaner I might see. Considering what this is costing, I think it’s pretty badly run.”
“Well, you’ll soon be out of it. I got our reservations yesterday. Good position amidships. Near the dining-room elevator. To be convenient for you.”
Her fine eyes darkened with disappointment.
“Why, darling, you know I hate being near the elevators. The noise of them keeps up till all hours. After what I’ve been through I must have my proper rest. You’ll just have to go back to the steamship office and make an exchange.”
He shifted in his chair and passed his hand over his face. He said,—“Now, look here, Camilla, we were quite near the elevators coming over and you didn’t seem to mind.”
“Because I was up late myself then. And I did complain of them. I complained of them several times. Only of course you wouldn’t remember.”
“Well, I’ll go back to the office and see what I can do,” he answered resignedly. He pressed his hand to the injured part of his leg, which was aching.
I hope, she thought, he isn’t going to fuss over that leg every time he is annoyed at me. She closed her eyes and caressed the downy head on her shoulder with her lips. A sensuous peace stole over her.
He took the brightly-coloured plan of the ship from his pocket, put on his glasses and examined it earnestly.
After a moment she said,—“The man across the way is visiting his wife, too. His name is Captain Rendel.”
“He came up in the elevator with me.”
“Oh. What’s he like?”
“Like all other Englishmen. Afraid I’d speak to him.”
“Did you?”
“Of course not. He had some flowers in a paper. It looked like about three daisies.”
“Goodness!” She laughed. “Is he good-looking?”
“Tall and thin with a kind of bend in the middle. I liked his clothes.”
“Well, I must say, Robert, you look nice enough for anyone this morning.”
He was gratified. “Thanks, Camilla.”
The nurse came in for the baby.
“Let’s have a look at him,” said Wylde, “in the daylight—such as it is.”
“He’s a beauty, sir,” said the nurse.
She put the baby into his arms.
He limped to the window and scrutinized it with a tender half-humorous look.
“My wife thinks he’s like me,” he remarked to the nurse.
She thought him very good-looking and said:
“I hope so, sir.”
“Is that a sort of compliment?” he asked with a boyish grin.
“You really shouldn’t be holding him,” interrupted his wife’s voice. “Dear knows how germy your clothes are.”
“That’s true,” he agreed, and handed over the baby.
The nurse carried him off.
“Robert,” said his wife solemnly, “we must give him every advantage we possibly can.”
“You bet,” he agreed.
In the room across the way the Rendels were talking about their baby.
Phyllis Rendel chuckled. “It’s ridiculous,” she said, “how fast the tiny things develop. At any rate I hadn’t realized till this minute that he has eyebrows. Look at them.”
“I’m dashed if I can see any.”
“Look from this angle. They’re almost white but they’re there.”
“What amuses me is his nose. He’s a funny-looking little codger altogether.”
“Certainly he’s not so pretty as Clive was at his age. He takes after his poor mother, I’m afraid.”
“I hope he does. One
