"After all, most women have to do that all their lives. I did not grumble. When heaven ceased to provide me with a present for him, I knew how to bow my head and went and bought one. There are excellent cigar-cases at Wertheim's in Königsberg if you wish to give one to Herr Pastor next Christmas. They do not come unsewn at the corners by July or August in the way those one buys in other shops do. Ah, yes. Happy years. Happy, happy years. First the six years of great joy collecting my family, and then the years of happiness bringing it up. Of course you are fond of children?"
"I've never had any."
"Naturally you have not," said the Baroness, stiffening again.
"So I don't know," said Ingeborg.
"But every true woman loves little children," said the Baroness.
"But they must be there," said Ingeborg.
"One has God-implanted instincts," said the Baroness.
"But one must see something to practise them on," said Ingeborg.
"A true woman is all love," said the Baroness, in a voice that sounded very like scolding.
"I suppose she is," said Ingeborg, who felt that she never could have met one. She had a vision of something altogether soft and squelchy and humid and at the same time wonderful. "Are any of your children at home?" she asked, thinking she would like to test her instincts on the younger Glambecks.