Alfred hesitated. He had no wish to be cruel to Zoie, but the thought of Jimmy out in the street with his baby at this hour of the night was not to be borne.
Zoie renewed her efforts at persuasion. “Now, dearie,” she said, “I wish you'd go get shaved and wash up a bit. I don't wish baby to see you looking so horrid.”
“Yes, do, Alfred,” insisted Aggie. “He's sure to be here in a minute.”
“My boy won't care HOW his father looks,” declared Alfred proudly, and Zoie told Aggie afterward that his chest had momentarily expanded three inches.
“But I care,” persisted Zoie. “First impressions are so important.”
“Now, Zoie,” cautioned Aggie, as she crossed toward the bed with affected solicitude. “You mustn't excite yourself.”
Zoie was quick to understand the suggested change in her tactics, and again she sank back on her pillows apparently ill and faint.
Utterly vanquished by the dire result of his apparently inhuman thoughtlessness, Alfred glanced at Aggie, uncertain as to how to repair the injury.
Aggie beckoned to him to come away from the bed.
“Let her have her own way,” she whispered with a significant glance toward Zoie.