“But I am, personally, not a gambler. I wouldn’t spend £1 on the lottery, let alone take a punt on a pregnancy. The stakes are far, far too high. I can’t agree with a society that would force me to bet on how much I could love under duress.”

“A librarian can’t live by books alone, and I wouldn’t eat them if I could. Feel too much like cannibalism.”

“I could write an epic poem about your thighs.”“That would amuse polite society rather too much, and I wouldn’t like that.”“I wouldn’t either.” She pressed her cheek to his belly. “I can’t think of a word to rhyme with marble column.”

“I wouldn’t let you leave the House if I didn’t—there’s too much at stake.” “At stake. Ha-ha.” At his frown, I winced. “Sorry. I kid when I’m nervous.”

“I can’t be here. We can’t be together now. Too much is at stake.”

“It was Adam, but he was too late. He couldn’t love me anymore. He would be so angry with me. I had to hide. He didn’t love me so he might hurt me when he was angry. When he calmed down, that would hurt him. I didn’t want him hurting because of me. There was nowhere for a person to hide. So I wouldn’t be a person. My eyes fell on the shelves that lined the far back corner. A coyote could hide there.”