"What's this stuff about the Civic Club?" he began sharply.
"Stuff?" she queried, blankly.
"That's what I said."
"I'm sure I don't know," she answered stiffly. "I belong to the Civic Club, and have been working with it."
"Why didn't you tell me?" His resentment grew as he proceeded.
"I did not think you were interested."
"Didn't you know that this Child Labor business was opposed to my interests?"
"Dear, I did not dream it. It's a Republican bill, to be sure; but you seemed very friendly with Senator Smith, who introduced it. We were simply trying to improve it."
"Suppose we didn't want it improved."
"That's what some said; but I did not believe such--deception."
The blood rushed to Cresswell's face.
"Well, you will drop this bill and the Civic Club from now on."
"Why?"
"Because I say so," he retorted explosively, too angry to explain further.
She looked at him--a long, fixed, penetrating look which revealed more than she had ever seen before, then turned away and went slowly up-stairs. She did not come down to dinner, and in the evening the doctor was called.
Cresswell drooped a bit after eating, hesitated, and reflected. He had acted too cavalierly in this Civic Club mess, he concluded, and yet he would not back down. He'd go see her and pet her a bit, but be firm.
He opened her boudoir door gently, and she stood before him radiant, clothed in silk and lace, her hair loosened. He paused, astonished. But she threw herself upon his neck, with a joyful, half hysterical cry.
"I will give it all up--everything! Willingly, willingly!" Her voice dropped abruptly to a tremulous whisper. "Oh, Harry! I--I am to be the mother of a child!"