She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. She turned there and beckoned. ” “You will shake hands with me, please,” she begged. “You’re getting too old to put things off, John. Hear me then, now, before I take one step to establish my origin, or secure my rights. ” He stated matter-of-factly. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. But your role would have been to go about saying, ‘I beg your pardon’ in a reproving tone to things you understood quite well in your heart and saw no harm in. It was better even than the hymn-singing.
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