Finding
Alfred deaf to her first entreaty, Zoie shut her lips hard,
rearranged her pretty head-dress, drew one fascinating little
curl down over her shoulder, reknotted the pink ribbon of her
negligee, and then issued a final and imperious order for her
husband to attend her.
"Yes, yes, dear," answered Alfred, with a shade of impatience.
"I'm coming, I'm coming." And bidding a reluctant farewell to
the small person in the crib, he crossed to her side.
Zoie caught Alfred's hand and drew him down to her; he smiled
complacently.
"Well," he said in the patronising tone that Zoie always
resented. "How is hubby's little girl?"
"It's about time," pouted Zoie, "that you made a little fuss over
me for a change."
"My own!" murmured Alfred. He stooped to kiss the eager lips,
but just as his young wife prepared to lend herself to his long
delayed embrace, his mind was distracted by an uneasy thought.
"Do you think that Baby is----"
He was not permitted to finish the sentence.
Zoie drew him back to her with a sharp exclamation.
"Think of ME for a while," she commanded.
"My darling," expostulated Alfred with a shade of surprise at her
vehemence. "How could I think of anyone else?" Again he stooped
to embrace her and again his mind was directed otherwise. "I
wonder if Baby is warm enough," he said and attempted to rise.
Pages:
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143