“I knew she needed you,” pleaded Tetlow.  “Then, too—­I was afraid—­I knew how you acted before, and I thought you’d not get your gait again until you had her.”

Norman gave a short sardonic laugh.  “If you’d only stop trying to understand me!” he said.

Tetlow was utterly confused.  “But, Fred, you don’t realize—­not all,” he cried imploringly.  “She discovered—­she thinks, I believe—­that is—­she—­she—­that probably—­that in a few months you’ll be something more than a husband—­and she something more than a wife—­that you—­that—­you and she will be a father and a mother.”

Tetlow’s meaning slowly dawned on Norman.  He seated himself in his favorite attitude, legs sprawled, fingers interlaced behind his head.

“Wasn’t I right to bring her back—­to tell her she needn’t fear to come?” pleaded Tetlow.

Norman made no reply.  After a brief silence he said:  “Well, good night, old man.  Come round to my office any time after ten.”  He rose and gave Tetlow his hand.  “And arrange for Galloway whenever you like.  Good night.”

Tetlow hesitated.  “Fred—­you’ll not be harsh to her?” he said.

Norman smiled—­a satirical smile, yet exquisitely gentle.  “If you only wouldn’t try to understand me, Bill,” he said.

When he was alone he sat lost in thought.  At last he rang for a bell boy.  And when the boy came, he said:  “That door there”—­indicating one in the opposite wall of the sitting room—­“what does it lead into?”

“Another bedroom, sir.”

“Unlock it, and tell them at the office I wish that room added to my suite.”

As soon as the additional bedroom was at his disposal, he went in and began to undress.  When he had taken off coat and waistcoat he paused to telephone to the office a call for eight o’clock.  As he finished and hung up the receiver, a sound from the direction of the sitting room made him glance in there.  On the threshold of the other bedroom stood his wife.  She was in her nightgown; her hair, done in a single thick braid, hung down across her bosom.  There was in the room and upon her childish loveliness the strange commingling of lights and shadows that falls when the electricity is still on and the early morning light is pushing in at the windows.  They looked at each other in silence for some time.  If she was frightened or in the least embarrassed she did not show it.  She simply looked at him, while ever so slowly a smile dawned—­a gleam in the eyes, a flutter round the lips, growing merrier and merrier.  He did not smile.  He continued to regard her gravely.

“I heard you and Mr. Tetlow come in,” she said.  “Then—­you talked so long—­I fell asleep again.  I only this minute awakened.”

“Well, now you can go to sleep again,” said he.

“But I’m not a bit sleepy.  What are you doing in that room?”

She advanced toward his door.  He stood aside.  She peeped in.  She was so close to him that her nightgown brushed the bosom of his shirt.  “Another bedroom!” she exclaimed.  “Just like ours.”