Summer reached its crest and started down the hill toward autumn. Jerry went to town and spent a week trying to find a larger studio for them, which made some concession to Monsieur Bébé. He suggested that Jane summon Bobs for company, in his absence, but she preferred to be alone. He left, weighed down by her advice not to be extravagant, not to take the first thing he looked at, to inspect her list of necessities before he decided on anything. She begged him to let her go with him, but he stoutly refused.
"Don't worry. I'll be as wise and wily as a real estate agent," he said as he left her.
She determined not to worry about it, but remembering his sudden enthusiasms during their spring house-hunting, she was not at rest in regard to him. She put it out of her mind as much as she could, and gave herself up to the complete enjoyment of being alone. Before her marriage, companionship had been her ideal luxury; now, solitude had taken its place.
She enjoyed the long, langourous days, abed until noon, in the garden or walking to the beach after luncheon, working at the book, at will, free to consider only herself and her pleasure. Every day she painted a new future for her baby, endowed him with new qualities. Sometimes he was a painter, sometimes a great writer, always he was of the elect.
Mrs. Biggs and Billy were distressingly attentive at first, thinking her lonely, but she managed to dispel that idea. They left her to her own devices during the day, but at night, when Billy was in bed, Mrs. Biggs would come to sit with Jane for a talk. She was a cheerful, philosophic sort of person. Jane liked to hear her ideas. Both she and Billy adored Jerry. They asked for daily news of him, and looked forward to his return.
"My! but wasn't you in luck to pick up a husband like Mr. Paxton?" she said, over and over.
"Yes, I was," Jane would admit.
"When I think of you, settin' alone, night after night in that white room, which never was cheerful to my thinkin', and now bein' the mistress of this grand, swell place; it's like one of them fairy-book stories."
"It is strange, isn't it, Mrs. Biggs?"
"There's nobody gladder fer you than me. Billy and me has had a grand time out here this summer."
"You've made it so comfortable for us, and we've enjoyed having you."
"Are you goin' to stay a long time in that hospital where you're going?"
"No, only a week or so."
"What is that thing you're going to have?"
"Twilight Sleep."
"I never heard tell of that before."
"No, it is rather new with us, Mrs. Biggs."
"The poor will never get it; it's just for the rich, I guess."
"On the contrary, the East Side Jewish Maternity Hospital experimented with it before any other hospital in New York."
"It's got to be free before we get it. The men wouldn't spend a cent to get it for us. They think sufferin' with children is a part of our job."
"We have to educate them out of that idea."
"I'd like to see you do it!"
"Begin with Billy, Mrs. Biggs. That's the way we must go about it—catch them young."
"Billy's got a real tender heart, mebbe he would understand, but Lord! the most on 'em!" She lifted her hands in a gesture of hopelessness.
The letters from Jerry were full of discouragement. The weather was hot, the city dirty, all the studios for rent had none of the things they required. Babies were not supposed to live in studios. He was tempted to try for a regular apartment for the family, and get a small workshop for himself. What would Jane think of that idea?

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Don't Pick Me
General FictionDo you need romantic love to be married, can intellectual love without physical attraction be enough?