With a little sobbing cry she flung the book back into her desk, and began to pull off her wrapper.

Her fingers shook.

Already she saw herself a Monster, a Wicked Destroyer of Domestic Bliss with her thoughtless absorption in Baby, until he had become that Awful Thing--a _Wedge_.

And Bertram--poor Bertram, with his broken arm! She had not played to him, nor sung to him, nor gone out with him.

And when had they had one of their good long talks about Bertram's work and plans?
But it should all be changed now.