It was astonishing how completely this coming child dominated the whole
atmosphere and all the circumstances of the Traffords. It became their
central fact, to which everything else turned and pointed. Its effect on
Marjorie's circle of school and college friends was prodigious. She was
the first of their company to cross the mysterious boundaries of a
woman's life. She became to them a heroine mingled with something of the
priestess. They called upon her more abundantly and sat with her, noted
the change in her eyes and voice and bearing, talking with a kind of awe
and a faint diffidence of the promised new life.
Many of them had been deeply tinged by the women's suffrage movement,
the feminist note was strong among them, and when one afternoon Ottiline
Winchelsea brought round Agatha Alimony, the novelist, and Agatha said
in that deep-ringing voice of hers: "I hope it will be a girl, so that
presently she may fight the battle of her sex," there was the
profoundest emotion. But when Marjorie conveyed that to Trafford he was
lacking in response.
"I want a boy," he said, and, being pressed for a reason, explained:
"Oh, one likes to have a boy. I want him with just your quick eyes and
ears, my dear, and just my own safe and certain hands."
Mrs. Pope received the news with that depth and aimless complexity of
emotion which had now become her habitual method with Marjorie. She
kissed and clasped her daughter, and thought confusedly over her
shoulder, and said: "Of course, dear----. Oh, I _do_ so hope it won't
annoy your father." Daffy was "nice," but vague, and sufficiently
feminist to wish it a daughter, and the pseudo-twins said "_Hoo_-ray!"
and changed the subject at the earliest possible opportunity. But
Theodore was deeply moved at the prospect of becoming an uncle, and went
apart and mused deeply and darkly thereon for some time. It was
difficult to tell just what Trafford's mother thought, she was complex
and subtle, and evidently did not show Marjorie all that was in her
mind; but at any rate it was clear the prospect of a grandchild pleased
and interested her. And about Aunt Plessington's views there was no
manner of doubt at all. She thought, and remarked judicially, as one
might criticize a game of billiards, that on the whole it was just a
little bit too soon.