CHAPTER IX
So they were married. There were children. She, not cognizant of nature’s dower to her sex, was surprised. No one had ever told her. Simcox had never mentioned it. Sturgiss said nothing about it. How was she to know? One cannot know everything, and she was so busy at the office.
Three children, happy Huggo, happy Doda, happy Benji—happy Rosalie—everybody happy, except Harry. He gloomed sometimes, glowered sometimes. Brooded now. Spoke——
“Did you ever notice anything queer about the children?”
Ha! What now? Sets the wind in that quarter? Her defenses bristle.
“What do you mean?”
“Have you ever thought that they are not quite like other children?”
Oh, this was dangerous! Where would this lead? Oh, dangerous.
“Particularize, Harry, particularize!”
“Have you ever noticed that Huggo is crosseyed? Or that Doda has two left feet? and I think—I think that Benji’s face is on upside down.”
Stand by! Stand by! She has the drift of this.
“Oh, let that go. I have a reply to that!” A mirage on her face.
“What reply?”
“I am a woman!”
Unanswerable. He put his arm around her. “It’s over. It’s over. Let’s forget it, Rosalie.”