It was now a quarter past twelve. When he had finishing feeding and burping, Isobella asked her, “Would you like to hold him?” Lucia nodded yes eagerly. We are the species, and maternity is our game; that’s all right, but nobody wants that admitted for fear we should all catch fire, and set about fulfilling the purpose of our beings without waiting for further explanations. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. ‘Very well, never mind. He did not explain what had happened to her. 1. “Always has been,” said Ogilvy.
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