If she had had the boy here she would have gone to the country, been content for his sake.
"Don't worry." Bertie put his hand on hers. "Es—I've been talking to Uncle Hugh."
"Well?" She woke up, suddenly hopeful.
"Well, I'm his nephew. He will make me a big allowance, leave me all he has—if—"
"If what?" cried Esmé.
"If we have a son before he dies," said Bertie. "That is the only stipulation. If not, I remain as I am. He has some craze about another Hugh Carteret. Of course there will be the title later on."
"If we have a son." Esmé stood up and laughed. "A son!" she said, "a son! I—"
"Why, Esmé!" Bertie ran to her. "Oh, don't cry like that. My dear, don't cry like that."
The wild outburst of a woman in hysterics filled the little room.