'
'Do you?'
'I have had to look after Willie so much. But read me some more
Homer; I shall be very glad to listen.'
Reardon reached for the book again, but not readily. His face
showed disappointment. Their evenings together had never been the
same since the birth of the child; Willie was always an excuse--
valid enough --for Amy's feeling tired. The little boy had come
between him and the mother, as must always be the case in poor
homes, most of all where the poverty is relative. Reardon could
not pass the subject without a remark, but he tried to speak
humorously.
'There ought to be a huge public creche in London. It's monstrous
that an educated mother should have to be nursemaid.'
'But you know very well I think nothing of that. A creche,
indeed! No child of mine should go to any such place.'
There it was. She grudged no trouble on behalf of the child. That
was love; whereas-- But then maternal love was a mere matter of
course.
'As soon as you get two or three hundred pounds for a book,' she
added, laughing, 'there'll be no need for me to give so much
time.
Pages:
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245