The Baby Was Coming. Each Morning She Was Nauseated, Chilly, Bedraggled,
And Certain That She Would Never Again Be Attractive; Each Twilight
She Was Afraid. She Did Not Feel Exalted, But Unkempt And Furious. The
Period Of Daily Sickness Crawled Into An Endless Time Of Boredom. It
Became Difficult For Her To Move About, And She Raged That She, Who
Had Been Slim And Light-Footed, Should Have To Lean On A Stick, And Be
Heartily Commented Upon By Street Gossips. She Was Encircled By Greasy
Eyes. Every Matron Hinted, "Now That You'Re Going To Be A Mother,
Dearie, You'Ll Get Over All These Ideas Of Yours And Settle Down."
She Felt That Willy-Nilly She Was Being Initiated Into The Assembly
Of Housekeepers; With The Baby For Hostage, She Would Never Escape;
Presently She Would Be Drinking Coffee And Rocking And Talking About
Diapers.