Of what was she thinking? She must rescue herself. To return. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. She forced herself not to think of John. Lose no time. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark. She was suddenly grave. Sheppard, faintly.
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