At dinner he drank champagne, and benevolence towards all the world
spread in his being. Watching the smoke of his cigar wreathe about him,
he thought: 'Must send that chap a wire.' After all, he was a fellow
being--might be suffering, as he himself had suffered only two hours
ago. To keep him in ignorance--it wouldn't do! And he wrote out the
form--
"All well, a daughter.--WINTON,"
and sent it out with the order that a groom should take it in that
night.
Gyp was sleeping when he stole up at ten o'clock.
He, too, turned in, and slept like a child.
XI
Returning the next afternoon from the first ride for several days,
Winton passed the station fly rolling away from the drive-gate with the
light-hearted disillusionment peculiar to quite empty vehicles.
The sight of a fur coat and broad-brimmed hat in the hall warned him of
what had happened.
"Mr. Fiorsen, sir; gone up to Mrs. Fiorsen."
Natural, but a d--d bore! And bad, perhaps, for Gyp. He asked:
"Did he bring things?"
"A bag, sir."
"Get a room ready, then."
To dine tete-a-tete with that fellow!
Gyp had passed the strangest morning in her life, so far. Her baby
fascinated her, also the tug of its lips, giving her the queerest
sensation, almost sensual; a sort of meltedness, an infinite warmth, a
desire to grip the little creature right into her--which, of course,
one must not do.
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