"There are many things George can't be blamed for, and the way he was brought up is one of them.

Of course, he's no good whatever as a business man--his father hardly ever sees him in the office--but it's useless to scold him about it, for it only exasperates him.

But he might have been a sensible, steady boy, if he had been brought up in some small place in the South where there was nothing to tempt him." That there was any place in the South small enough not to afford temptation to George seemed improbable to Gabriella; but she felt that Mrs.Fowler's earnest belief, supported as it was by the unshakable prop of maternal feeling, hardly justified the effort she must make to dispel it; and she had still no answer ready when the carriage turned into Fifty-seventh Street, and stopped beside the pavement where little Frances--they had already begun to call her Fanny--sat in a perambulator.

Flushed and smiling, with her red mouth gurgling delightedly, and a white wool lamb clasped in her arms, the adorable child was certainly worth any seesaw of destiny, any disillusioning experience of marriage.
Before the beginning of the next winter Gabriella's second child was born--a brown, sturdy boy, who came into the world with a frowning forehead and crying lustily from rage (so the nurse said) not from fright.

He was named Archibald after his grandfather, who developed immediately a passionate fondness for him.