He had found work at the laboratory unsatisfactory, and after lunching at his club he had come home and gone to his study in order to think out the discussion he contemplated with her. She came in to him as he sat at his desk. "Busy?" she said. "Not very," he answered, and she came up to him, kissed his head, and stood beside him with her hand on his shoulder. "Pass-book?" she asked. He nodded. "I've been overrunning." "No end." The matter was opened. What would she say? She bent to his ear and whispered. "I'm going to overrun some more." His voice was resentful. "You _can't_," he said compactly without looking at her. "You've spent--enough." "There's--things." "What things?" Her answer took some time in coming. "We'll have to give a wedding present to Daffy.... I shall want--some more furniture." Well, he had to go into it now. "I don't think you can have it," he said, and then as she remained silent, "Marjorie, do you know how much money I've got?" "Six thousand." "I _had_. But we've spent nearly a thousand pounds. Yes--one thousand pounds--over and above income. We meant to spend four hundred. And now, we've got--hardly anything over five." "Five thousand," said Marjorie. "Five thousand." "And there's your salary." "Yes, but at this pace----" "Dear," said Marjorie, and her hands came about his neck, "dear--there's something----" She broke off. An unfamiliar quality in her voice struck into him. He turned his head to see her face, rose to his feet staring at her. This remarkable young woman had become soft and wonderful as April hills across which clouds are sweeping. Her face was as if he had never seen it before; her eyes bright with tears. "Oh! don't let's spoil things by thinking of money," she said. "I've got something----" Her voice fell to a whisper. "Don't let's spoil things by thinking of money.... It's too good, dear, to be true. It's too good to be true. It makes everything perfect.... We'll have to furnish that little room. I didn't dare to hope it--somehow. I've been so excited and afraid. But we've got to furnish that little room there--that empty little room upstairs, dear, that we left over.... Oh my _dear!_ my _dear!_" § 4 The world of Trafford and Marjorie was filled and transfigured by the advent of their child.