"What does Osborn say now about a second baby?"
"He doesn't know."
Mrs. Amber paused and thought before she said: "You ought to tell him at once, my dear. It's possible—he might be pleased."
"He'll be anything but pleased. I dread telling him."
"Oh, my duck!" said Mrs. Amber helplessly.
Marie enumerated: "He'll hate the expense, and the worry, and my illness, and the discomforts he'll have while I'm ill. He'll hate everything."
"Men do, of course, poor things," Mrs. Amber commented with sympathy.
"Poor things!" Marie flared. "I'd like to—"
"No, you wouldn't like to do anything unkind, love. And when you've got your dear little new baby you'll love it, and be just as pleased with it as you are with George. You will, my dear; there's no gainsaying it, because we women are made that way."
"I know," said Marie very sorrowfully.