“I think so,” she answered, with a sort of deeply tranquil gravity.
“In March when we are parents?”
“Are you worrying about that?” she asked him, smiling now, but with, in her voice, a hint of reproach.
“Worrying—no. But do you?”
“Let us go into the drawing-room,” she said.
When they were there she answered him:
“Absolutely different, but not necessarily older. Feeling older must be very like feeling old, I think—and I can’t imagine feeling old.”
“Because probably you never will.”
“Have you had tea, Dion?”
“Yes, at the Greville. I promised I’d meet Guy there to-day. He spoke about Beattie.”