Mrs. Ambler proved expensive in the kitchen, breaking for the while
through her economical rule, feeling nothing too good for her poor
child. She used to remind Osborn every time they met, by word, or
look, or expressive sigh, how Marie had suffered. He felt oppressed,
overridden and tired; but he was very obedient beneath the rule of the
women.

He had to wait upon himself a good deal; sometimes he brought a chop
for dinner home in his pocket and grilled it himself.

He slept in the room relegated to him as dressing-room or to a chance
visitor, as occasion might arise; it looked forlorn and dusty, and the
toilet covers wanted changing.

He longed to have Marie about again, blithe and pretty; and to be rid
of this pack. He thought of his mother-in-law and the nurse as a pack.

Several times he succumbed to dining with Rokeby at his club, but he
always hurried home in time to say good night to Marie _before_
she fell asleep.

When the baby was nearly three weeks old, he was called upon to lift
his wife out of bed for the first time, and to put her in an armchair,
which had been prepared with pillows and a rug, by the purring
gas-fire. She was so eager to be moved, and he so eager to have her to
himself for just a little, that he begged permission to take her into
another room for awhile, but the nurse would have none of it, and she
was right, for Marie was white and tired when she had sat in the chair
for only ten minutes. That staggered Osborn afresh. He was
speechlessly sorry for her, and sat by her holding her hand, watching