Too late now. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating. It should be the happiest day of your life, and I would not detract from its happiness by letting you remember for a moment that there are others to whom your inevitable decision must bring some pain. She covered herself with her arms. All this was exciting and entertaining. Naturally you shout yourself hoarse when she has finished, and feel jolly pleased with yourself. "By all means," rejoined Quilt. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. Nigel Ennison, Annabel.
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