"He mustn't! He's got to stop! What can he be thinking of!" cried Strelsa indignantly. "But he--doesn't know." "You haven't _told_ him?" "No." "Why not?" "I--don't know how he'll take it." "What?" Molly flushed: "We didn't want one. I don't know what he'll say. We didn't care for them----" Strelsa's angry beauty checked her with its silent scorn; suddenly her pretty head fell forward on Strelsa's breast: "Don't look that way at me! I was a fool. How was I to know--anything? I'd never had one.... You can't know whether you want a baby or not until you have one.... I know now. I'm crazy about it.... I think it would--would kill me if Jim is annoyed----" "He won't be, darling!" whispered Strelsa. "Don't mind what he says anyway. He's only a man. He never even knew as much about it as you did. What do men know, anyway? Jim is a dear--just the regular sort of man interested in business and sport and probably afraid that a baby might interfere with both. What does he know about it?... Besides he's too decent to be annoyed----" "I'm afraid--I can't stand--even his indifference--" whimpered Molly. Strelsa, holding her clasped to her breast, started to speak, but a noise of men in the outer hall silenced her--the aviators returning from their hangars and gathering in the billiard-room for a long one before dressing. "Wait," whispered Strelsa, gently disengaging herself--"wait just a moment----" And she was out in the hall in an instant, just in time to touch Jim on the arm as he closed the file toward the billiard-room. "Hello, Sweetness!" he said, pivoting on his heels and seizing her hands. "Are you coming in to try a cocktail with us?" "Jim," she said, "I want to tell you something." "Shoot," he said. "And if you don't hurry I'll kiss you." "Listen, please. Molly is in the music-room. _Make_ her tell you." "Tell me what?" "Ask her, Jim.... And, if you care one atom for her--be happy at what she tells you--and tell her that you are. Will you?" He stared at her, then lost countenance. Then he looked at her in a panicky way and started to go, but she held on to him with determination: "Smile first!" "Thunder! I----" "Smile. Oh, Jim, isn't there any decency in men?" His mind was working like mad; he stared at her, then through the astonishment and consternation on his good-looking features a faint grin broke out. "All right," she whispered, and let him go. Molly, idling at the piano, heard his tread behind her, and looked up over her shoulder. "Hello, Jim," she said, faintly. "Hello, ducky. Strelsa says you have something to tell me." "I--Jim?" "So she said. So I cut out a long one to find out what it is. What's up, ducky?" Molly's gaze grew keener: "Did that child tell you?" "She said that you had something to tell me." "_Did_ she?" "No! Aren't you going to tell me either?"