There remained,
however, the problem of the interloping baby, which now sat
whimpering on the lawn in a disfavour as chilling as its previous
popularity had been unwelcome. The Momebys glared at it as though
it had wormed its way into their short-lived affections by
heartless and unworthy pretences. Miss Gilpet's face took on an
ashen tinge as she stared helplessly at the bunched-up figure that
had been such a gladsome sight to her eyes a few moments ago.
"When love is over, how little of love even the lover
understands," quoted Clovis to himself.
Rose-Marie was the first to break the silence.
"If that is Erik you have in your arms, who is--that?"
"That, I think, is for you to explain," said Mrs. Momeby stiffly.
"Obviously," said Clovis, "it's a duplicate Erik that your powers
of faith called into being. The question is: What are you going
to do with him?"
The ashen pallor deepened in Rose-Marie's cheeks. Mrs. Momeby
clutched the genuine Erik closer to her side, as though she feared
that her uncanny neighbour might out of sheer pique turn him into
a bowl of gold-fish.
"I found him sitting in the middle of the road," said Rose-Marie
weakly.
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