She was at first, for a brief moment, envious of her friend--a thought she put away from her at once and forever.
"It is better," she said to me.

"It is much better that it has not come to me yet--to us, that is.

For if I am to go with you to your country, we may have 'adventures by sea and land,' as you say [and as in truth we did], and it might not be at all safe for a baby.

So we won't try again, dear, till it is safe--will we ?" This was a hard saying for a very loving husband.
"Unless," she went on, "if one is coming, you will leave me behind.

You can come back, you know--and I shall have the child." Then that deep ancient chill of male jealousy of even his own progeny touched my heart.
"I'd rather have you, Ellador, than all the children in the world.