Brightness returned to his face.
He stood up.
"Darling," he said, "I told you that an even greater moment was coming for us." She rose also, and faced him, expectant.
He put out his hand and lifted the Infant.
"Helen, let's go to the studio, where I first told you I felt sure I could play a 'cello.

We will sit there in the firelight as we did on that last evening, seven months ago, and you shall hear me make the Infant sing, for the very first time." Then the young motherhood in Helen, arose and took her by the throat.
"Ronald!" she said.

"You are utterly, preposterously, altogether, selfish! I am ashamed of you!" They faced each other across the table.
Every emotion of which the human soul is capable, passed over Ronnie's countenance--perplexity, amazement, anger, fury; grief, horror, dismay.
She saw them come and go, and come again; then, finally, resolve into a look of indignant misery.
At last he spoke.
"If that is your opinion, Helen," he said, "it is a pity I ever returned from the African jungle.

Out there I could have found a woman who would at least have given me a welcome home." Then his face flamed into sudden fury.

He seized the cup from which he had been drinking, and flung up his hand above his head.