“You could afford to marry, Desmond.”

“What’s the standard?”

“Being able to keep servants,” said Osborn harshly.  “You marry the girl you love, a pretty girl you’re proud to take about, and she can’t come out to dine with you; she can’t move from home; babies, they cry all night, burn ’em!  And she gets ready to hate you.  It’s hell!”

CHAPTER X

RECRIMINATION

On a day of January, like spring, Julia went upon a sentimental errand, influenced by she did not know what; but she guessed it was the youth in the air.  It made her think of the youngest thing she knew, and that was Marie’s baby, and of what she could do for it; and all that she could do, as far as she saw, was to buy it a superfluous woolly lamb.  So after her day’s work was over, at half-past five, Julia put on her hat and coat with a purpose, and stepped into the toy department of her favourite stores.

Julia was not mean; from out the whole flock of lambs which she found awaiting her selection she chose a beauty.  Its white fluffiness and its beady eyes affected her softly; her handsome face grew motherly as she insinuated the stranger into her muff, where her hands stroked it unconsciously.  Julia was far more pleased with the lamb than the baby would be, as she boarded an omnibus and rode towards Hampstead.

It was six when she arrived at the door of No. 30 Welham Mansions, and Marie opened it to her with the baby in her arms, huddled up in a rather soiled shawl from which only his incredibly downy head emerged.  He looked solemnly at Julia and emitted an inquiring croak.

“You aren’t still carrying that baby out, are you?” Julia asked suddenly.

They entered the sitting-room together.

“What else can I do?  If I go out, he’s got to go, too.”

“You’ll get a perambulator?”

“I’m going to ask Osborn soon.”

“Why not ask him now?”

“He’s had such a lot of expense, poor boy.”

“Still,” Julia argued, “it’s got to be bought, and you ought to be saved.  Ask him to-night, after dinner.”

“I believe I will,” said Marie.  “My back ached so.”

Julia was more bewildered than angry.

“My goodness!” she said sharply.  “What’s the matter with life?  Why can’t a young man and woman have a baby and look healthy over it?  I’ve got to ask someone that, and get an answer.”

Julia followed Marie back to the kitchen.

“I’ll whip the cream, if he’s got to have it,” she said grudgingly.

“And I’ll go and look nice for once.  Then I’ll ask him for the perambulator.”

Marie came out again in the wedding-frock of chiffons, very tumbled now, looking sweet but with the hectic flush of her exertions still on her cheeks.

“All my clothes are going to glory!” she lamented.

“Tell you what,” said Julia, producing frothy mounds of cream round her energetic whisk, “do have my bridesmaid dress.  I’ve never worn it since your wedding—­too picturesque for my style, that frock is.  But if you—­”