“No! Good Lord! What do you think I am? I—” She turns her back to him, folds her arms. “I thought I was barren. All those years, with Ben. Nothing. I thought it was me.” She sighs. “And, like you said, I’m not as young as I was.”

“How could you have let this happen?”

She turns to him, livid.

“Well, naturally, I thought you would have taken care of it.”

“I told you. I didn’t think there was any chance.”

He flops heavily into his chair. “Well, you can’t have my baby. Not in this town. It’s as simple as that. I won’t ruin everything I’ve worked my whole life for.”

“I had a suspicion you might say such,” she says. “But I told myself, well, people can surprise you sometimes, Florence. So that’s why I’m giving you the chance to do the decent thing.”

“The decent thing? What, in this case, is that?”

“To claim your baby, of course.”

“Good God, Florence! I can’t! Don’t you see? My wife—”

“You might should have thought of her before.”

“I won’t acknowledge this child,” he says. “He’ll be a bastard. You can claim I’m the father and I’ll deny it till I die. Who do you think everyone will believe?”

“He will not be a bastard,” she says, measuring each word carefully. Tears have begun to leak from her eyes. “He’ll be the child I’ve always wanted.”

John leans over his desk, rests his head in his hands. He can smell her perfume, formerly so intoxicating. Now the smell makes him nauseous. “Leave this town,” he says. “If you ever cared for me at all.”

“You rotten dog,” she exclaims. “If you’d ever cared for me, you wouldn’t ask such a thing.”

He looks up at her. “I can’t leave my family,” he snaps. “And you have the power to ruin me, thanks to your carelessness. I’m on my knees here, begging you. Do the right thing.”

“I don’t see you on your knees,” she says, tears streaming from her eyes. “And what about you doing right by me? You left that part out.”