Voices sounded from the road. The lowest branches of the trees yet trembled with light. Then the world died away in the chirping of insects and the bleat of frogs. "I will light a lamp, darling." Mrs. Price went over to a table. She could barely be seen. The match spurted suddenly into flame, and she was plain again. When the lamp was lit the night outside went black and the moon, now vast and green and strange, rushed gorgeously against the lifted window pane. Lamplight sucked at the shadows but could not draw them utterly to itself so that the corners of the big room remained vague and only here and there some object gave out a grudging glint. Mrs. Price was stiff but shaken and gentle. "Now, Winnie, darling, tell me what has made you like this." She came to the bed and looked down. Winnie threw back her head and, with closed eyes, plucked at the bedclothes. "I can't tell you." "Are you unhappy? Has something happened between you and your husband, my child? You must be fair to me, Winnie." Winnie rocked herself. "Oh, I can't tell. What would be the use? I can't tell." "What am I to do, Winnie?" Still Winnie rocked herself. "Oh, I would rather be dead!" she said. "Don't say that, Winnie! We mustn't think such thoughts. Aren't we doing everything on earth to make you live? Your father and I want to do everything on earth to make life better and surer and sweeter for you and your babies." Winnie began to throw herself about in the bed again. "Oh, I'd rather be dead than to be sick and have another baby. I know I'm going to die." "Have another baby." Mrs. Price did not receive the words. They were strange. They remained outside her. Then, all at once, without her being aware of the moment, their meaning entered into her and burnt her with terror. "What do you mean, Winnie? This isn't possible." Mrs. Price seated herself shakily on the bed and took Winnie's struggling hands again. "Ba----This is nonsense, Winnie." She held Winnie's hands firmly. Her own hands were dry and hot. Mrs. Price felt strange with herself. The words had changed her. She was in a new place. "How long has this----" She tried to speak. Her throat was dry. She could not go on. "Oh, don't ask me--six weeks--two months--I don't know!" "Winnie, are you sure of this?" "I'm sure of it." Mrs. Price's grip on Winnie's arms relaxed. Winnie lay still, moaning. Mrs. Price got up. Her eyes looked wasted with fear. She stared helplessly at her daughter. "Oh, Winnie, what shall I do for you?" Winnie's nostrils, very wide open, quivered like those of a mare crazy with a painful bit. "I won't! I'll die first!" she said. "I won't!" Laurence was around her, in her, formless like smoke. Her animosity to him was living its separate life within her. She sobbed herself into numbness. She would not feel it. She wanted the life in her to lie cold and numb. Her breasts swelled. She thought she could feel the milk flowing through them like shame through her flesh.