“Of course I have. Isn’t that what I promised. There, you spilled some; how weak your fingers are! you are like a baby. I don’t like babies.”
“Don’t say that,” falling back upon the pillow. “I want you to be womanly, dear, and true women love babies.”
“They are such a bother.”
“So are husbands.”
“When you get well, you will not be a bother! Can’t you talk any louder?”
“Sit down close to me. How long have I been sick?”
“Oh, I don’t know! The nights and days are just alike.”
“I expect that you are worn out. We will go to sleep together. I wish we could.”
“You mustn’t talk, you must go to sleep.”
“Say, Susan,” catching her hand in both his, “are you glad you married me?”