She looked at him.
'Then why are you afraid of me?' she said.
He looked at her a long time before he answered.
'It's the money, really, and the position. It's the world in you.'
'But isn't there tenderness in me?' she said wistfully.
He looked down at her, with darkened, abstract eyes.
'Ay! It comes an' goes, like in me.'
'But can't you trust it between you and me?' she asked, gazing anxiously at him.
She saw his face all softening down, losing its armour. 'Maybe!' he said. They were both silent.
'I want you to hold me in your arms,' she said. 'I want you to tell me you are glad we are having a child.'
She looked so lovely and warm and wistful, his bowels stirred towards her.
'I suppose we can go to my room,' he said. 'Though it's scandalous again.'
But she saw the forgetfulnes
