Something of animation, of sympathy, even, stirred in that half-face.
She said: “I am sorry. Was it a boy or a girl? How old would it be?”
I said: “It was a son. I forget how old he would have been. Almost four,
I think.”
She said: “Well, will you give Noel up, so that I can have him to be a
father for my child? . . . Some weeks ago he wanted to go to Asia . . .
I wasn’t sure about this then. . . . He won’t mind not going to Asia,
now.”