"That's good," said Osborn. "Miss Winter came and you had dinner here, I suppose. What did you see?"
"We didn't go to the theatre."
"Not go!" said Osborn, "how was that? You weren't seedy again, were you, kid?"
"Rather," Marie murmured, "so Julia took me to a doctor instead."
"My dear!" Osborn cried.
"Osborn," said Marie, looking up at him, "we—we're going to have a baby."
"The deuce we are!" Osborn exclaimed abruptly, and he sat back and looked down at her sparkling face incredulously.
"You're glad?" she asked.
Osborn pulled himself sharply together. He said to Rokeby afterwards: "I believe it's the biggest shock of a chap's life. Awful good news and all that, of course." But now he was concerned only with Marie, that pretty frail thing so joyously taking upon her shoulders what seemed to him so vague and dreadful a burden, and for the moment he was aghast for her.
"Are you?" he stammered.