"Where did you sell them?"
"I didn't sell them. Nobody ever saw them—not until Martin came."
"How did he know about them?"
"I told him, that first night I met him, at your pageant. He asked me what I did and for some reason I told him. He asked me to see some of my things and he liked them, rather, only he saw that I needed to live—that I could not really write if I sat outside of life and speculated about it. He literally opened up a new world to me. He took me about, to the theatre, to hear music. He got me interested in the big problems of now; he made me hungry for all the experiences I had been starved for."
Jerry leaned out toward her.
"That's why you married me, Jane?"
She turned and looked at him, as if he were calling her out of a trance.
"Yes, that was why. I wanted a child," she said simply.
Jerry threw himself back on the couch and laughed at that—laughed stridently.
"Do you mind, Jerry?" she asked in surprise.