“I don’t want children, Lucy. For it was not a good thing to like one man too much when one was going to marry another. They feasted every day and ate all sorts of fresh foods grown in the expansive gardens teeming with vegetables and fruits. Their flitting hands were always touching. He seemed to know a great deal about life. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. She said there was no other way to get them to stop their constant screaming. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. .
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