"Well, well, let's wait until you've seen them."
"Don't you believe me, Robert? Women do love their children before they've seen them. I don't need to see them. I have seen them. I saw them all last night."
She looked away from him, brooding, as if she still saw them.
"There's only one person I could be jealous of, and I'm not jealous of her any more."
"Poor little Jane."
"It wasn't Jane. It was their mother. I mean it was your wife."
He turned and looked at her. There was amazement in his kind, simple face.
"I suppose you think that's fiendish of me?"
He did not reply.
"But—Robert—I'm not jealous of her any more. I don't care if she was your wife."