The most natural thing in the world, no doubt.

I walked over to a chair opposite with my hand-bag and umbrella and sat down--a spectator, aloof and silent.

Aunt Emma fondled and quieted the child, apologizing for her to me, coaxing her to look up, but the little figure still shook with sobs, hiding its face in the bosom that it knew.

I smiled politely, like any other stranger, at Emma's deprecations, and sat impassive, looking at my alleged baby breaking her heart at the sight of her mother.

It is not amusing even now to remember the anger that I felt.