CHAPTER 33
“How much longer can this possibly go on?” George asked, sitting on the veranda with Angharad the next day. The sun shone warmly on the repaired garden, and the newly-planted roses were thriving, but all of his attention was on his wife. She sat with him placidly, not quite upright in her well-cushioned chair, relaxed in the shade with her feet up.
“She’ll get here when she gets here,” she told him, with the calm of an experienced mother.
“Probably in the middle of the night with maximum chaos,” he muttered, and felt the glory of her answering smile in spite of his nerves.
“If that’s how she wants it, that’s how it will be.”
He couldn’t help smiling back. “Wasn’t it strange how my father was sure it could only be a boy?” he said. “Mag hasn’t changed her prediction, has she?
