"Is it a boy or girl?"
"A girl. I only hope she will bring it up to speak the truth."
I replied that she might hope what we did not expect. So far Eliza had taken just exactly the tone that I wanted. But as I watched her, I saw her expression change and her underlip pulled down on one side, as it were.
"Well," I said rather sharply, "what is it? These people are nothing to us."
"No. But—it reminded me—our little girl—my baby—that died. And I——"
Here she put down her knife and fork, got up, and walked to the window. There she stood, with her back to me.
I had a mind to speak to her about the foolishness of recalling what must be very upsetting to her. But I said nothing, and began to brush my silk hat briskly. It was about time that I was starting for the city.
I went out.
Then I came back, kissed Eliza, and went out again.