"Oh."
"Was you terribly worried about me?"
"And then some."
"You poor darling. It must have been awful, waiting."
"It must have been awful having the pain."
The atmosphere was less strained now. They could look at each other. They could smile. So long as neither of them thought of the little one who lay sleeping in the nursery, all was well. Eddie asked many questions about the delivery. It was from his questions that Dot learned how much she had really missed, how blinded by pain she had been. No wonder Dr. Stewart laughed at her proud boast that she had seen and heard everything.
"It's a very nice delivery room," said Dot. "Of course I never saw any other, but I think this is a nice one. They have a cabinet full of instruments down there, and the cabinet is so big it covers one whole wall."
"Is that so?" said Eddie. "That's some cabinet."
Conversation perished. But it was a more pleasant silence that followed than on the occasion before Eddie had had his smoke.
A trio of black-haired women with heavily rouged mouths swooped down on Mrs. Lensky's bed. They all wore large diamonds. Dot could not find the one who had eleven abortions to her credit. They talked loud and laughed frequently. The red-haired girl scowled into her book.
"What time is it, Eddie?"
"It's six o'clock," said Eddie. And as he spoke, Bill came in with Dot's dinner tray. There was a poached egg, toast, tea, and some sliced peaches.
The other trays carried chops and vegetables and a very inviting dessert. In a few days she, too, would be getting a regular meal. The thought inspired her to do the best she could for the poached egg.
