"I am here for that," he said more gently.
After some futile objections, Joyce departed feeling unable to hold out a minute longer.
"How are you feeling?" her husband's anxious voice was asking. "You are as white as a lily, darling."
"I'll be all right when Baby is," she answered wearily.
In a little while Joyce was put to bed with a sleeping draught and tucked in comfortably, her husband as skilful in his ministrations as any nurse. "Won't you kiss me before I go? Love me a little bit," he pleaded wistfully.
"Go away Ray," she cried irritably. "Don't worry."
"You've made me so miserable!"
"It's nothing to what you made me!"
"I made you!"
"You—you were absent all day when Baby was so ill. It has nearly killed me."