‘Wait a minute! The child, you said. Good! But has the child been born yet? So how can you say you have it? Not, God forbid, that I want to wish you ill! But a lot of things can happen before a child is born … Can anyone predict them? And besides, what if Thea really decides to “get rid of it” as she said? She’s quite capable of it, you know! Who’s going to stop her? You, perhaps?’

‘She won’t get rid of it,’ Gurdweill said quickly, in a panic. ‘Don’t say things like that! She wants it too, just as much as I do … The truth is that she’s not a cruel woman at all …’

‘That’s not the subject under discussion, if she’s a cruel woman or not. I’m not prepared to discuss it with you. But you’ll admit yourself that she’s subject to all kinds of uncontrollable impulses, caprices, call them what you will … And if, for example, she suddenly gets it into her head that pregnancy and birth will spoil her looks, do you really think she’ll take any notice of you and your protests? She’s not afraid of operations; that, we already know. On the contrary, she’s only too happy at the excuse for an operation! Did she really need that operation on her breasts three months ago? And the other operations she’s had since you’ve known her — were they necessary? Three operations in a few months! It’s really grotesque when you come to think of it, and it’s hardly something you can ignore. And now, with such a wonderful opportunity for another operation!’

‘She’ll never get a doctor to do it! There’s no medical reason for it. She’s perfectly healthy …’

‘Are you really sure she won’t?’ scoffed the other. ‘I never imagined you were so naive. She’ll find a doctor to do it all right — for money! There are plenty of doctors who make a living from it!’

‘Enough, stop torturing me! I’m tired to death.’

A wave of heat flooded him, a disagreeable, annoying, feverish heat. Inside his temples his pulse beat like a sledgehammer, and at the base of his skull there was a dull, empty pain, as if his brain had been drained away. There was a vile dryness in his mouth and the bitter taste of the pipe smoke. Irritably he pushed the bedclothes down to his belly.

‘In any case,’ the other began again, ‘it’s a possibility that has to be taken into account. It’s not as inconceivable as you think. A woman like her …’

‘What do you mean, “a woman like her”?’ Gurdweill was by now boiling with rage. ‘You really are a hopeless idiot! She’s no worse than other women!’