"I don't see what odds it can make to you whether I'm married or not. If I ain't married, you are."
William and Esther walked on in silence, listening to the day as it hushed in quiet suburban murmurs. The sky was almost colourless—a faded grey, that passed into an insignificant blue; and upon this almost neutral tint the red suburb appeared in rigid outline, like a carving. At intervals the wind raised a cloud of dust in the roadway. Stopping before a piece of waste ground, William said—
"Let's go in there; we'll be able to talk easier." Esther raised no objection. They went in and looked for a place where they could sit down.
"This is just like old times," said William, moving a little closer.
"If you are going to begin any of that nonsense I'll get up and go. I only came out with you because you said you had something particular to say about the child."
"Well, it is only natural that I should like to see my son."
"How do you know it's a son?"
"I thought you said so. I should like it to be a boy—is it?"
"Yes, it is a boy, and a lovely boy too; very different to his father.
I've always told him that his father is dead."
"And is he sorry?"