I spent this afternoon in detention. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating. ’ ‘Not if you want one of good family, no,’ he agreed mildly. But if she smiled at all it was with her eyes. How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States. She was the type that people of every age gravitated to, naturally affable and kind to everyone. Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred.
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