"There are such a lot of things that occur to me," I said. "Things
that your poor mother, if she were alive, would be more fitted to
touch on than myself."

"Such as--"

She knelt by me and gave me both her hands. It was a pretty way
she had. She had begun it soon after her head overtopped mine in
my eternal wheelbarrow. There was a little mockery in her eyes.

"Well--" said I. "You know what marriage means. There is the
question of children."

She broke into frank laughter.

"My darling Majy--" That is the penalty one pays for admitting
irresponsible modern young people into one's intimacy. They
miscall one abominably. I thought she had outgrown this childish,
though affectionate appellation of disrespect. "My darling Majy!"
she said. "Children! How many do you think I'm going to have?"

I was taken aback. There was this pure, proud, laughing young face
a foot away from me. I said in desperation:--

"You know very well what I mean, young woman. I want to put things
clearly before you--" It is the most difficult thing in the world
for a man--even without legs--to talk straight about the facts of
life to a young girl. He has no idea how much she knows about them
and how much she doesn't. To tear away veils and reveal