Annys. Oh, we were, both of us, a little over-excited, I suppose. He has—(she hesitates, finally answers)—he has always been so eager for children.
Elizabeth. Yes. So many men are; not having to bear the pain and inconvenience themselves.
Annys. Oh, well, they have to provide for them when they do come. That’s fair enough division, I su— (Suddenly she turns fiercely.) Why do you talk like that? As if we women were cowards. Do you think if God sent me a child I should grudge Him the price!
Elizabeth. Do you want Him to?
Annys. I don’t know; prayed Him to, once.
Elizabeth. (She lays her hand upon her.) It isn’t a few more mothers that the world has need of. It is the women whom God has appointed—to whom He has given freedom, that they may champion the cause of the mothers, helpless by reason of their motherhood.
(A moment. Geoffrey enters.)
Geoffrey. Good evening.
Annys. (Rises; a smile struggles for possession. But he only shakes hands, and it dies away.)
Elizabeth. Good evening.