"Turn up your collar; it's winter in here," said Stephen softly. He
switched on a shaded light which revealed a nursery containing two small
beds side by side. Two large windows at the farther end of the room were
wide open, and all the breezes of the December night were playing about
the sleepers.
The sleepers! Richard bent over them, one after the other, scanning each
rosy face. The baby girl lay upon her side, a round little cheek, a
fringe of dark eyelashes, and a tangle of fair curls showing against the
pillow. The boy was stretched upon his back, his arms outflung, his head
turned toward the light so that his face was fully visible. If he had
been attractive with his wonderful eyes open, he was even more winsome
with them closed. He looked the picture of the sleeping angel who has
never known contact with earth.
"I thought he would never be done looking," Stephen acknowledged
afterward when he told his exulting wife about the scene. "I was half
frozen, but he acted like a man hypnotized. Finally he looked up at me.
'Gray, you're a rich man,' said he. 'I suppose you know it or you
wouldn't have brought me up here to show me your wealth.
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