"Not more so than when I first knew Baby was coming."
"Well, quite as much."
She gave him a little look that he did not understand.
"Quite as much," she said. "And you were patient with me then."
He maintained a composure that invited her to observe how extremely patient he was now.
"And do you remember—afterwards—before he came—how quiet I was and how contented? I wasn't a bit nervy, or restless, or—or troublesome."
He smiled, remembering.
"Can't you see that anything creative—everything creative must be like that?"
He became grave again, having failed to follow her.
"Presently, if this thing goes all right, I shall be quite, quite sane. That's the way it takes you just at first. Then, when you feel it coming to life and shaping itself, you settle down into a peace."