Of course, with everything now known, Huggo was forgiven. Huggo was prosperous now, almost aggressively prosperous. He kept a car. The syndicate, whatever it actually did, was obviously doing enormously well. What was the good of being stupid and unkind to the boy now that, at last, he had found his feet? But Huggo scarcely ever came to the house. He had virtually left Lucy. Lucy lived on in the originally-taken furnished flat in Bayswater. Huggo had rooms somewhere, no one quite knew where, and lived there. Rosalie used to get Lucy to the house sometimes, but Lucy was never at her ease on these visits, and Doda, who sympathized entirely with Huggo in the matter, very much disliked her and would not meet her. Lucy was in bad health and she was going to have a baby. Her health and her condition made her look much more common than she used to look.
Then the baby was born; a little girl. Poor, grateful Lucy called it Rosalie. She told Rosalie that Huggo said he didn’t care what the baby was called. He was very angry about the baby. “He was worse than usual when he was here last week,” said Lucy. “I think he’s got something on his mind. I think he’s worrying about something. Oh, he was sharp.”
Lucy was very ill with the birth of her baby. She didn’t seem able to pick up again from her confinement. She kept her bed. Then, suddenly, she developed pneumonia. The maternity nurse, paid by Rosalie, was still in attendance. Rosalie sent in another nurse, and on that same night, going straight to the sick bed from Field’s, and then coming home very late, told Harry, who was waiting up for her, that the worst was feared for Lucy. She then said, “Harry, if anything happens, I think we’ll have that baby here. It will practically be a case of adopting the child.”
Harry agreed.
“I’d get in a nurse for her, the new little Rosalie.” She sighed.
“Yes, yes,” said Harry.
She said after a little, “Harry, the nurseries in use again!”
He sat there as he was always sitting, thinking.
She went over to him. “Dear, won’t you like the nurseries to be in use again?”
He said slowly, “I will, very much, Rosalie. It’s lonely, these empty rooms. I will very much—in some ways.”