She had answered in the first sense, he thought, that physically, there was nothing wrong or nothing truly amiss (in spite of her unsteadiness). By the way she sighed against him, though, he had to check himself – to stifle his enthusiasm, just for the moment. Because he – wasn’t sure on the second sense.

And Elias could have asked it whilst he held her, but he felt like honesty came easier when he could see her, face to face. So he freed her of the embrace with just a small squeeze of her shoulder as he let go (he couldn’t help himself; couldn’t suppress all the delight). Stepping back, he settled his hands on the back of the chair where he’d been sitting instead and looked at her from there. He was – already thinking much too far ahead (would it be a boy or a girl? Who would they look like, who would they grow up to be, about making a nursery room and a cot and a high chair and a first broom) and he knew it was irrational. Perhaps Daffy had her reservations. The toll the pregnancy would take on her, or had already taken; however she would cope with her shop with the addition of a child; having children, generally. “And, Daff,” he added, trying to sound offhand and afraid he was failing, “are you – happy?”

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