"I wish you had not called out to him," said Joan stiffly. "It is so--so undignified." Fanny quelled her laughter and looked up at Joan. "Undignified," she repeated; "it stopped him from coming, anyway. You don't look at things the right way, honey. One must not be disagreeable or rude to men in our trade, but one can often choke them off by laughing at them." CHAPTER XX "Love lent is mortal, lavished, is divine. Not by its intake is love's fount supplied, But by the ceaseless outrush of its tide." "And there is little Dickie," Mabel said; she stood, one hand on the cot, her grey eyes lowered--"he has brought such happiness into my life that sometimes I am afraid." The baby. Some women were like that, Dick knew. A child could build anew their world for them and make it radiant with a heaven-sent wonder. He had never thought of Mabel as a mother. He had been almost afraid to meet her after two years away--her letters had given him no clue to her feelings; but then she rarely wrote of herself and she had never been the sort of person to complain. So he had come down to Sevenoaks rather wondering what he would find, remembering their last talk together the day before her wedding. Mabel had met him at the station and driven him back to the house in their car. She had talked chiefly about himself; was he glad to be back?--had he enjoyed the years away?--what plans had he made for the future? But her face, her quiet grey eyes had spoken for her. He knew she was happy, only the reason, the foundation of this happiness, had been a mystery to him until this moment. "Little Dickie," he repeated, leaning forward to peer at the small atom of humanity who lay fast asleep. "You have called it after me, then?" Mabel nodded. "Of course; and don't call him 'it,' Dick; he is a boy." A sudden intuition came to her, she lifted her eyes to Dick's. "Tom wanted him called that, too," she said, speaking a little quickly; "but that is not wonderful, because Tom always wants just exactly what he thinks I do. We will go downstairs now, shall we, Dick? You know Mother insisted upon a dinner-party in your honour this evening, and we are going on to some awful theatre in Sevenoaks afterwards." "Good Lord!" groaned Dick; "why did you let her?" "I thought you wouldn't be too pleased," Mabel admitted; "but surely you must remember that it is no use arguing with mother about what she calls--amusing us. She took the tickets as a pleasant surprise yesterday when she was in Sevenoaks. As Tom says, 'Let's be amused with a good grace.' Dick"--she paused on the lowest step to look up at him--"you haven't the slightest idea of how good Tom is; he spoils mother almost as much as father did, and yet he manages her." "And you," said Dick, "are absolutely and entirely happy, Mabel?" "Absolutely and entirely," she answered; he could see the truth of her words shining in her eyes.