The revolving
fashions had made it very passable, and the fabric was as
beautiful as ever.
When Lawton presented her with the roses she pinned one in the
yellowed lace which draped her bodice and put the rest in a great
china vase on the table. The roses were very fragrant, and
immediately the whole room was possessed by them.
A tiny, insistent cry came from a corner, and Lawton and Eudora
turned toward it. There stood the old wooden cradle in which
Eudora had been rocked to sleep, but over the clumsy hood Eudora
had tacked a fall of rich old lace and a great bow of soft pink
satin.
"He is waking up," said the man, in a hushed, almost reverent
voice.
Eudora nodded. She went toward the cradle, and the man followed.
She lifted the curtain of lace, and there became visible little
feebly waving pink arms and hands, like tentacles of love, and a
little puckered pink face which was at once ugly and divinely
beautiful.
"A fine boy," said the man. The baby made a grimace at him which
was hideous but lovely.
"I do believe he thinks he knows you," said Eudora, foolishly.
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