"Osborn," said Marie, looking up at him, "we--we're going to have a
baby."

"The deuce we are!" Osborn exclaimed abruptly, and he sat back and
looked down at her sparkling face incredulously.

"You're glad?" she asked.

Osborn pulled himself sharply together. He said to Rokeby afterwards:
"I believe it's the biggest shock of a chap's life. Awful good news
and all that, of course." But now he was concerned only with Marie,
that pretty frail thing so joyously taking upon her shoulders what
seemed to him so vague and dreadful a burden, and for the moment he
was aghast for her.

"Are you?" he stammered.

"I think it's lovely," she murmured.

"Then I'm glad," said Osborn; "if you're glad, I am, you dear, sweet,
best girl. But tell me all the doctor said, angel, and just what we're
to do and everything."

"We don't do anything till next September."

"Is it to be next September?"

"Yes," said Marie, trembling a little.