“Why not, Mary? Anticipation in such a vital matter is a joy that I, most certainly, shall not renounce.”
“If—if there should be disappointment?”
“Why apprehend anything so unlikely?”
“Because Lady Margot—if your dreams come true—is the last of her branch of the family. I have never seen her in my dreams with a baby in her pretty arms.”
“Nonsense, Mary, nonsense. Sitting up late is always bad for you. To bed with you! I shall go to my dressing-room.”
He moved to the dressing-room door, and then came back, half-smiling, half-frowning.
“I see the fly in your ointment. Lady Margot is petite. And what of it? Large women do not necessarily have large families. Mrs. Hamlin was no bigger than Lady Margot, and she presented Hamlin with four whoppin’ big boys. I have often wondered, my dear Mary, why the wives of poor parsons are so needlessly prolific.”
Lady Pomfret smiled ironically.
“The doctrine of Compensation, Geoffrey.”
“Perhaps. Now—pop into bed!”