"
"A suburb, eh," her father said, and his face took on a look of dislike.
They had often talked of suburbs.
"Yes," his daughter answered, "I've picked out the very house." He threw at
her a glance of impatience. He knew what had started her on this line.
Edith's friend, Madge Deering, was living out in Morristown. All very well,
he reflected, but her case was not at all the same. He had known Madge
pretty well. Although the death of her husband had left her a widow at
twenty-nine, with four small daughters to bring up, she had gone on
determinedly. Naturally smart and able, Madge was always running to town,
keeping up with all her friends and with every new fad and movement there,
although she made fun of most of them. Twice she had taken her girls
abroad. But Edith was quite different. In a suburb she would draw into her
house and never grow another inch. And Bruce, poor devil, would commute and
take work home from the office. But Roger couldn't tell her that.
"I'd be sorry to see you do it," he said. "I'd miss you up in the
mountains."
"Oh, we'd come up in the summer," she answered. "I wouldn't miss the
mountains for worlds!"
Then they talked of summer plans. And soon again Edith's smooth pretty
brows were wrinkling absorbedly. It was hard in her planning not to be sure
whether her new baby would come in May or early June. It was only the first
of April now. While she talked her father watched her.
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