"Even little Cissy," said Hugh. For little Cissy was bringing all her stalkless flowers to Jane; smiling at her as if she alone possessed the secret of this play. Brodrick watched, well-pleased, the silent traffic of their tendernesses. The others were talking about Hambleby now. They had all read him. They had all enjoyed him. They all wanted more of him. "If we could only have had Hambleby, Miss Holland," said Levine. "It wasn't my fault that we didn't get him." Jane remembered that this was the brother-in-law whom Brodrick had wanted to keep out. He had the air of being persistently, permanently in. "Of course it wasn't your fault," said she. Levine then thought it necessary to say things about Jane's celebrity till Brodrick cut him short. "Miss Holland," he said, "doesn't like her celebrity. You needn't talk about it." John and Henry looked graver than ever, and Sophy made sweet eyes at Jane. Sophy's eyes--when they looked at you--were very sweet. It was through her eyes only that she apologized for her husband, whose own eyes were manifestly incapable of apologizing for anything. The Brodricks seemed to tolerate their brother-in-law; and he seemed, more sublimely, to tolerate their tolerance. Great efforts were now made to divert Levine from the magazine. Mr. John Brodrick headed him off with motors and their makers; the Doctor kept his half-resentful spirit moving briskly round the Wimbledon golf-links; and Hugh, with considerable dexterity, landed him securely on the fiscal question, where he might be relied upon to stay. But it was the Baby who saw what was to be done if his parent was to be delivered from his own offensiveness. "Oh, look!" cried Winny. "Look at Baby. Making such a ducky angel of himself." The Baby, having sat down abruptly on the grass, was making a ducky angel of himself by wriggling along it, obliquely, as he sat. At the sight of him all the Brodricks instantaneously lost their seriousness and sanity. He was captured and established as the centre of the group. And, in the great act of adoration of the Baby, Levine was once more united to his wife's family. His wife's family, like his wife, could forgive anything to Louis Levine because of the babies. It reserved its disapproval for Mrs. John Brodrick who had never had any; who had never done anything that was expected of her. Mrs. John looked as if she had cried a great deal because of the things she had not done. She had small hazel eyes with inflamed lids, and a small high nose that was always rather red. She was well born, and she carried her low-browed, bird-like head among the Brodricks with a solitary grace, and the motions of a dignified, distinguished bird. And now, in mute penitence and wistful worship, she prostrated herself before their divinity, the Baby.