door behind him.

Greg saw the policeman before he saw Dora. She was being lead toward the
living room sofa, her face white, her coat soiled.

"What's wrong?" Greg rushed forward.

"You're Marson? Relax. Your wife just got excited for a minute. Lots of
them try what she did. We won't hold it against her."

Dora pressed close to Greg, her head pushing against his chest, her body
trembling. Reproachfully, the policeman was saying:

"You should have stayed home on her check day. If she could have reached
you when she heard the news--" He brushed invisible specks from his
spotless uniform and walked out of the apartment.

Greg led his wife to the sofa and sank down beside her. Check day. He
stared at her with disbelief.

"I'm sorry," she said in a whisper, not looking at him. "You never could
remember anniversaries or dates, and I didn't want to worry you." She
started to quiver again.

"How bad is it?" Greg fought for words, blinking to try to drive away
the haze before his eyes.

"It isn't serious at all," she said, raising her head and looking at him
for the first time. "They said that the operation will take only a few
minutes. They said cancer wouldn't ever be dangerous if they always
found it as quickly as this time. We--I'm really very lucky, they said."

"But you should have told me that this was your check day. I was worried
about the Patagonian case, and I just--"

Then Greg stared straight at his wife, trying to pierce the strangeness
that covered her eyes. He realized in a flood of terror the full
implications of this day.

"Dora--do they let you have the child if you're pregnant when they find
cancer? I don't remember...."

* * * * *

She sat erect and pushed the hair away from her eyes, suddenly the
stronger of the two. "Of course, I can have the child," she said. "And
please don't worry about today. I was silly, and fainted when they
brought in the report, and when I came to I tried to pretend that I'd
suffered amnesia. It was foolish because they could have identified me
from their records, but they told me that lots of women get the same
idea, so maybe I'm not so terrible after all."

Dennis wailed from the nursery and Phyllis' thin cry joined his.
"They're lonely," Dora said. "I'll go and see--"

"Wait. You didn't make a decision?"

"Of course I did." She smiled palely. "I reserved passage."

"But you can't go away! What would I do without you and the k