She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. She would rend him limb from limb like a fiend if only she could move. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. “Don’t you think I ought to?” she asked, very submissively. When he had finished he took up the wine list and ordered a bottle of dry champagne. ‘Courage,’ urged her spouse.
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