“Wait here a minute, Ellen,” and went into the dining-room. Winton followed. She turned to him at once, and said:
“Oh, Dad, what am I to do? His brain! It would be too awful to feel I'd brought that about.”
Winton grunted. Gyp went on:
“I must go and see. If it's really that, I couldn't bear it. I'm afraid I must go, Dad.”
Winton nodded.
“Well, I'll come too,” he said. “The girl can go back in the cab and say we're on the way.”
Taking a parting look at her baby, Gyp thought bitterly: 'My fate? THIS is my fate, and no getting out of it!' On the journey, she and Winton were quite silent—but she held his hand tight. While the cook was taking up to Rosek the news of their arrival, Gyp stood looking out at her garden. Two days and six hours only since she had stood there above her pansies; since, at this very spot, Rosek had kissed her throat! Slipping her hand through Winton's arm, she said:
“Dad, please don't make anything of that kiss. He couldn't help himself, I suppose. What does it matter, too?”
A moment later Rosek entered. Before she could speak, Winton was saying:
“Thank you for letting us know, sir. But now that my daughter is here, there will be no further need for your kind services. Good-day!”