"Just as I wished for your sake, Frank," she said. "I knew you wanted a son. This is the happiest moment of my life, for I have given him to you."
"A son!" exclaimed Frank softly, as he straightened up and threw his splendid shoulders back. "Why, think of it, Inza, I'm a father—and you are the dearest, sweetest, handsomest, noblest little mother in all the world!"
The nurse ventured to speak.
"Madame is so well! Madame is so strong! It is wonderful! It is grand!"
"You've been very good, Lizette," said Inza. "We'll not forget it."
The nurse retired to the far end of the room, where she stood with her back toward the bed, pretending to inspect and admire a Donatello upon the wall.
Frank took the chair beside the bed and found Inza's hand, which he clasped in a firm but gentle grasp.
"What shall we name him?" he asked.
"Why, haven't you decided on a name, dear?"
"Without consulting you? Do you think I would do such a thing, Inza?"