“ ‘But at my back I always hear

Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near,’ ”

“ ‘But at my back I always hear Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near,’ ”

I said.

“I know that poem,” Catherine said. “It’s by Marvell. But it’s about a girl who wouldn’t live with a man.”

My head felt very clear and cold and I wanted to talk facts.

“Where will you have the baby?”

“I don’t know. The best place I can find.”

“How will you arrange it?”