"No, no," said Penelope. "I mean—oh, it's terrible! Oh, baby, I love you!"
She kissed the baby, who was certainly a very fine baby, and wept again. Bob inspected the boy with great interest.
"I say, I rather think it's like Plant," he said.
Pen gasped.
"But in this light, it's rather like Gordon."
"Oh!" said Penelope.
"And its forehead is like De Vere's a little. I say, won't you tell me who you've married?"
Penelope hugged the baby and howled.
"I can't, I can't. We've q-quarrelled," she said, "and he's furious, and I'm f-furious with him."
"Why?" asked Bob, still inspecting the baby for signs of his male parentage, "why? Oh, I say, sideways he reminds me of Williams and Rivaulx, and upside down he's a little like Carew and Goby. But why have you quarrelled, Pen?"