There was silence. He sat staring out of the window, with a faint grin, half mockery, half bitterness, on his face. She hated his grin.

“You’ve not taken any precautions against having a child then?” he asked her suddenly. “Because I haven’t.”

“No,” she said faintly. “I should hate that.”

He looked at her, then again with the peculiar subtle grin out of the window. There was a tense silence.

At last he turned to her and said satirically:

“That was why you wanted me then, to get a child?”

She hung her head.

“No. Not really,” she said.

“What then, really ?” he asked rather bitingly.