she said.

Then Julia was modern enough to ask without preliminary that question
which had asked in Mrs. Amber's elderly heart all day.

"Marie, are you going to have a baby?"

Marie could not have been more confused and confounded.

"I!" she stammered. "Have a baby! I never thought of such a thing!"

"It's not an unknown event," said Julia; "it has been done before.
Think!"

Marie thought.

"Julia," she whispered, hushed, "perhaps--"

"You must know--or you can make a good guess."

Marie began to tremble. "I've been feeling so simply awful; I couldn't
think what was the matter with me, but I--I believe you may be right.
I shouldn't be surprised--"

Julia drew at her cigarette savagely; tears were in her eyes;
something hurt her and she resented it.

"Shall you be pleased?" she asked.

"Pleased? I--don't--know."

"Will your husband be pleased?"

"I don't know."

"People seem to run about anyhow in the dark," said Julia
thoughtfully.

Marie blushed. "Well, we'd never made any sort of plan."

"I think it would be lovely to have a baby," said Julia defiantly.

The challenge called forth an answering thrill in Marie; a force which
she had not known she possessed leapt to meet it; she felt warm and
glowing, tremulously excited and happy.

"So do I!" she breathed. "Oh, Julia, I wish I knew for certain. I
_must_ know."

"Go and see a doctor," said Julia; "he'd tell you."

"When?"

"When you like. I know one whose surgery hours are eight till
nine-thirty."

"Oh, if I could only know before Osborn comes home to-night!"

"Let's go."

"Now?"

"Now."

Marie's mind flitted to its former anxieties of the purse, which she
did not wish to reveal to Julia sitting there so well-dressed in the
gown that she so easily had paid for. Theatre or doctor? Doctor or
theatre? Which should it be?

She glanced dissemblingly at the clock.

"I don't know if I've time. We ought to be starting to _The Scarlet
Pimpernel_."

"Chuck the theatre," said Julia. "I don't mind. This is a far greater
business. Come along; I'll take you."

Light and glory flamed in Marie's heart.

"Don't you really mind?"

"My dear kid, I wouldn't let you go to the theatre tonight. You'll
come and see that doctor, and then sit here in your easychair and rest
quietly."

Marie's feet were no longer leaden as they carried her into her
bedroom to fling on coat and hat. She was consumed by a great wonder.
Could it be?

She counted a