"But wait until you see what it is. Then scold me if you can."
She led him into another room where on a bed reposed a hooded wicker basket, lined and covered in silk—blue for a boy—with fine lace trimmings. She awaited his verdict.
"It's very pretty. But— How much was it?"
She named the price.
He whistled. "Wouldn't something cheaper have done as well?"
"David, you ought to be ashamed of yourself." Her indignation was three-fourths in earnest. "I'd be ashamed not to get Davy Junior the very best of everything. It's the duty of parents to get their children the very best of everything."
"The best they can afford, yes. But— However, it's here and the only thing to do is to pay for it. I'll send a check in the morning."
He returned to the living-room. Shirley followed. He stood for a long minute by the table, looking down at the new book. Then he restored it to its wrappings.
"What are you doing?"
"I think I'll not keep it, after all."