He was beside her suddenly, standing straight and still in shadows.
"Oh, darling," she whispered. "Why did you wait? It's been three whole days."
"Three days?" he asked, leaning forward to stare down at his son. "Really! It didn't seem that long."
"Where were you? You didn't even phone!"
"Sometimes it's difficult to phone," he said slowly, as if measuring his words. "You have given me a son. That pleases me very much."
A coldness touched her heart and a despair took hold of her. "It pleases you! Is that all you can say? You stand there looking at me as if I were a—a patient ..."
"A patient?" His expression grew quizzical. "Just what do you mean, Sally?"
"You said you were pleased. If a patient is ill her doctor hopes that she will get well. He is pleased when she does. If a woman has a baby a doctor will say, 'I'm so pleased. The baby is doing fine. You don't have to worry about him. I've put him on the scales and he's a bouncing, healthy boy.'"
"Medicine is a sane and wise profession," Sally's husband said. "When I look at my son that is exactly what I would say to the mother of my son. He is healthy and strong. You have pleased me, Sally."
He bent as he spoke and picked Sally's son up. He held the infant in the crook of his arm, smiling down at it.