“I love ’em,” said he, glad to reach a less embarrassing topic.
“So do I—I have seen so many when I was a child. They are wonderful. It seems to me that they are so near to the source of life they bring with them the very fragrance of God.”
He was silent, impressed, a little bewildered. Where had she seen “so many” babies? Had she been a nurse? She had not been talking for effect.... He knew an actress once, the only other one he had interviewed, who had quoted Ovid and Herrick and had talked with astonishing ease and fluency on the Byzantine Empire. He learnt from a friend that she possessed an extraordinary memory and had read up these subjects before he came, in order to get a good story about herself. She had the story.
No, Ursula was different. He wished he had lifted her up in his arms when she had spoken about being carried.
Over the meal the talk took a personal turn.
“Have you many friends?” she asked.
“Only one,” smiled Tab, “and he’s now so rich that I can scarcely call him a friend. Not that Rex wouldn’t repudiate that.”
“Rex?”
“Rex Lander,” said Tab, “who by-the-way, is very anxious to be introduced to you. He is one of your most fervent admirers.” Tab felt that he was being very noble indeed, and he experienced quite a virtuous glow at his own unselfishness.
“Who is he?” she asked.