He flung his cigar into the fireplace, and glared at her. Why must she always be different from other females? Why could she not accept this normal business of women in the natural way, as Mrs. Alston did, and his sister, and every other woman he had ever heard of? They kept their embarrassing condition as unobtrusive as possible, never mentioning it, never fussing, until at the proper moment they quietly disappeared from masculine eyes, and eventually reappeared with a new addition to the family.

Sometimes, though, they did not reappear. It occurred to him suddenly that his cousin Mary had died in childbirth. A trickle of fear extinguished his irritation. He examined Theo anxiously, consciously seeing her for the first time in weeks. She did not look right. Her small face was both puffy and pinched. Her glorious eyes had lost all their brightness. And her cheeks between limp auburn braids were as white as the newly plastered wall behind her.

His heart contracted. 'My darling——'

She raised her eyes, startled at his tenderness. 'Yes, Joseph?'

He looked down, embarrassed, touched her hand clumsily. 'Theo, we'll go to Charleston, as soon as you can travel. You shall have a——' He hesitated: the family would be shocked and contemptuous. He swallowed and went on. 'You shall have Doctor Debow, if you wish. I don't want you to worry. You must take care of yourself, I'——His face crumpled. 'Damme!' he shouted at her, 'why haven't you taken better care of yourself? You've had none of that medicine Maum Chloe made up for you. Look at it, there's the bottle—full!'

He pointed angrily at a viscous mixture of swamproot and chopped snakeskin which the Alston midwife had sent over to the Oaks.

Theo shook her head gently; her eyes glistened as she smiled at him.

'Poor Joseph, I do cause you a lot of trouble, don't I? You are good to me'. She raised her arms and, pulling his head down close to her, she pressed her pale lips softly against his whiskered cheek.

Six days later, Theodosia and Joseph made the trip to Charleston. It was not so difficult as she had feared. Pompey and Cato carried her on a litter from the house through the tangled woods to the Oaks Landing on the creek. A huge flatboat awaited them, and she was made comfortable upon it, while skilled boatmen rowed and poled it along the winding creek to the Waccamaw.

The tide was running out and swept the heavy craft downstream to Winyaw Bay, fifteen miles away, where they labored against the currents and whirlpools around the point, then up the Sampit River, to tic up at last beside the Alston Wharf in Georgetown.