He told himself, too, that very likely when they were back in their own house again, and when motherhood was not so new to her, Billy would not be so absorbed in the baby.

She would return to her old interest in her husband, her music, her friends, and her own personal appearance.

Meanwhile there was always, of course, for him, his painting.

So he would paint, accepting gladly what crumbs of attention fell from the baby's table, and trust to the future to make Billy none the less a mother, perhaps, but a little more the wife.
Just how confidently he was counting on this coming change, Bertram hardly realized himself; but certainly the family was scarcely settled at the Strata before the husband gayly proposed one evening that he and Billy should go to the theater to see "Romeo and Juliet." Billy was clearly both surprised and shocked.
"Why, Bertram, I can't--you know I can't!" she exclaimed reprovingly.
Bertram's heart sank; but he kept a brave front.
"Why not ?" "What a question! As if I'd leave Baby!" "But, Billy, dear, you'd be gone less than three hours, and you say Delia's the most careful of nurses." Billy's forehead puckered into an anxious frown.
"I can't help it.

Something might happen to him, Bertram.