"You might," he replied slowly. "So that's why you're going?"
"Not to have the love affair," she said, looking up at him, pleading.
"Just the appearance of one," he said.
There was silence. He sat staring out of the window, with a faint grin, half mockery, half bitterness, on his face. She hated his grin.
"You've not taken any precautions against having a child then?" he asked her suddenly. "Because I haven't."
"No," she said faintly. "I should hate that."
He looked at her, then again with the peculiar subtle grin out of the window. There was a tense silence.
At last he turned to her and said satirically:
"That was why you wanted me then, to get a child?"
She hung her head.