She went into premature labor. “Why not?” He repeated, demanding. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. “Want to see Mr. Bring me clothing, I beg of you. The doctor would naturally offer a hundred objections; he might seriously interfere; so he must be forestalled.
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