"You give them their tea, do you?"
"Yes, sir," she answered, "and I have taken tea into the sitting-room."
The baby was now sitting in a high chair, bland and fat and greedy, a bib about her neck. George and Minna, after a propitiatory smile at him, had climbed into their places.
"You don't mind if we begin, Daddy, do you?" George asked.
"Go on, old son," said Osborn hastily.
There was no more use there for the father who had been cross, so he returned to his wife.
She was still sitting in the corner of the chesterfield, but she had picked up some knitting, with which her hands were busy. As he entered she looked up and gave him a contemplative regard such as he had given her as he went out, only that it was colder, more detached. She saw him big and splendid, handsome and virile, and the eagerness in his eyes fell into her heart like a cold weight. Her hands became cold and trembled.
She did not want him.
Beside her the tea table was drawn up. Its equipment seemed to him very dainty. It was a picture he liked, this pretty woman by the fire, with the environment suited to her charms.
Through the wall came faintly the jolly sound of their children's voices.