"If you'll have a kid, I'll stay on here for a year more; if you won't, I'll clear out in March and you'll have to come with me, for I can't afford two establishments. I don't see what else to offer you unless you want to go straight back to your people. You'd hardly care to go to mine, if they'd have you.
"But if you do what I ask about the child—I'll meet you all the way round—I swear to—you shan't forget it! Only you must ride straight. If you play me any monkey tricks over it—you'll never set eyes on me again; and I'm afraid you'll have to have Travers, because I trust him, not some slippery old woman who'd let you play him like a fish! D'you understand?"
Estelle stared aghast at this mixture of brutality and cunning. Her mind flew round and round like a squirrel in a cage.
She could have managed beautifully if it hadn't been for Travers. Travers would be as impervious to handling as a battery mule. She really wouldn't be able to do anything with Travers. He looked as if he drank; but he didn't.
Of course having a baby was simply horrid; lots of women got out of it nowadays who were quite happily married.
It was disgusting of Winn to suggest it when he didn't even love her.
But once she had one, if she really did give way, a good deal might be done with it.
Maternity was sacred; being a wife on the other hand was "forever climbing up the climbing wave," there was nothing final about it as there was in being able to say, "I am the mother of your child!"
Her wistful blue eyes expanded. She saw her own way spreading out before her like a promised land. "I can't," she said touchingly, "decide all this in a minute."
He could stay on for two years at the War Office, and Estelle meant him to stay without inconvenience to herself. He tried bargaining with her; but her idea of a bargain was one-sided.