Bimbles yapped a pleased reply.
“Oh, all right,” Sir Charles retorted; “if you don’t care, I don’t.”
Even a dog’s company was better than none.
The door opened, and Emma hurried in—but before his wife had closed the door again, Snow had heard a tiny cry.
“Well?” he demanded anxiously. Emma looked “bad,” he thought. And that wasn’t her way!
His wife made no reply, except to sob and throw herself, almost vixenishly, in a chair.
“Tell me,” he begged her brusquely.
“Oh, Charlie, it is too terrible,” Emma wailed angrily.
“Ivy?”
Lady Snow shook her head. “All of us. It’s a Chinese baby.”