"Jim!" she said. She clutched at his pajama jacket and tried to shake him. "Jim! Jim!"
He awoke, startled. He rubbed his eyes:
"Eh? What?"
"Jim!"
Then he saw her face.
"My God! What is it, dearie?"
She gasped her fear.
"Muriel!" he cried, and held her tight to his heart. His first feeling was a flash of gratitude: his desire had been granted; he was to be the father of a child.
But Muriel only clung to him and cried. She did not want a baby. She was horrified at thought of it. She was panic-stricken.
Stainton watched her grief with a sore heart and essayed to soothe it; yet, all the while, his heart swelled with a reasonless pride that appeared to him supremely reasonable: he had performed the Divine Act; within the year he would see a living soul clothed in his own flesh and moulded in his own image. Like hers, his eyes, though from a vastly different cause, were dimmed by tears.