“I know, I know!” Rachael said breathlessly and quickly, finding his disapproval almost unendurable.  Warren did not often complain; he had never spoken to her in this way before.  Her face was scarlet, and she knew that she wanted to cry.  “I know, dear,” she added more composedly; “I am afraid I do think too much about Jim; I am afraid”—­and Rachael smiled a little pitifully—­“that I would never want anyone but you and the boy if I had my own way!  Sometimes I wish that we could just slip away from everybody and everything, and never see these people again!”

If she had expected him to endorse this radical hope she was disappointed, for Warren responded briskly:  “Yes, and we would bore each other to death in two months!”

Rachael was silent, but over the sinking discouragement of her heart she was gallantly forming new resolutions.  She would think more of her clothes, she would make a special study of dinners and theatre parties, she would be seen at the opera at least every other week.

“I gave up the London trip just because you weren’t enthusiastic,” Warren was saying, with the unmistakable readiness of one whose grievances have long been classified in his mind.  “It’s baby—­ baby—­baby!  I don’t say much—­”

“Indeed you don’t!” Rachael conceded gratefully.

“But I think you overdo it, my dear!” finished her husband kindly.  Clarence Breckenridge’s wife would have assumed a different attitude during this little talk, but Rachael Gregory felt every word like a blow upon her quivering heart.  She could not protest, she could not ignore.  Her love for him made this moment one of absolute agony, and it was with the humility of great love that she met him more than halfway.

“You’re right, of course, Greg, and it must have been stupid for you!” Stupid!  It seemed even in this moment treason, it seemed desecration, to use this word of their quiet, wonderful summer together!

“Well,” he said, mollified, “don’t take what I say too much to heart.  It’s only that I love my wife, and am proud of her, and I don’t want to cut out everything else but Jim’s shoes and Mary’s day off!” He came over and kissed her, and Rachael clung to him.

“Greg, as if I could be angry with you for being jealous of your son!”

“Trust a woman to put that construction on it,” he said, laughing.  “You like to think I’m jealous, don’t you?”

“I like anything that makes you seem my devoted adorer,” Rachael answered wistfully, and smiling whimsically she added, “and I am going to get some new frocks, and give a series of dinners, and win you all over again!”

“Bully!” approved Doctor Gregory, cheerfully going on with his dressing.  Rachael watched him thoughtfully for a moment before she went on to her own dressing-room.