She said nothing for a while.
But he woke up when Austin came in and settled his big body in a chair.
"Drina, the little minx, called me back on some flimsy pretext," he said, relighting his cigar; "I forgot that time was going--and she was wily enough to keep me talking until Miss Paisely caught me at it and showed me out.

I tell you," turning on Selwyn--"children are what make life worth wh--" He ceased abruptly at a gentle tap from his wife's foot, and Selwyn looked up.
Whether or not he divined the interference he said very quietly: "I'd rather have had children than anything in the world.

They're about the best there is in life; I agree with you, Austin." His sister, watching him askance, was relieved to see his troubled face become serene, though she divined the effort.
"Kids are the best," he repeated, smiling at her.

"Failing them, for second choice, I've taken to the laboratory.

Some day I'll invent something and astonish you, Nina." "We'll fit you up a corking laboratory," began Austin cordially; "there is--" "You're very good; perhaps you'll all be civil enough to move out of the house if I need more room for bottles and retorts--" "Of _course_, Phil must have his laboratory," insisted Nina.