Von Rosen listened again, and again could not be sure whether he actually heard or imagined that he heard, the feeblest, most helpless cry ever lifted up from this earth, that of a miserable new born baby with its uncertain future reaching before it and all the sins of its ancestors upon its devoted head.
When at last the door opened and Doctor Sturtevant entered, he was certain.

That poor little atom of humanity upstairs was lifting up its voice of feeble rage and woe because of its entrance into existence.

Sturtevant had an oddly apologetic look.

"I assure you I am sorry, my dear fellow--" he began.
"Is the poor little beggar going to live ?" asked Von Rosen.
"Well, yes, I think so, judging from the present outlook," replied the doctor still apologetically.
"I could not get Mrs.Bestwick," said Von Rosen anxiously.

"I think the telephone is out of commission, on account of the ice." "Never mind that.