“Mr. Goddard,” I finally managed, feeling a dangerous sense of claustrophobia setting in. “I do not intend to marry you. You understand this, yes?” “I do. Your aunt has said we must wait. The scene which I have described cannot take place for another year, maybe two. So we must think on the future quietly in our hearts. Thinking of our children requires an entire afternoon. A boy, then a boy, then a girl, then a boy, then a girl, then a boy, then a girl, then a girl, then a boy.” He took another long breath. And so did I.
