"The sort of woman you like."
He waited in silence for what she would say next.
"It's not my fault, it's yours and Henry's. You shouldn't have made me go away and get strong. The thing always comes back to me when I get strong. It's me, you see."
"No, Jinny, the whole point is that you're not strong. You're not fit for anything creative."
At that she laughed.
"You're not, really. Why, how old is that child?"
"Six months. No—seven."
"Well, Henry said it would take you a whole year to get over it."
"I thought I should never get over it. We were both wrong."
"My child, it's palpable. You're nervy to the last degree. I never saw you so horribly restless."