it putting on ia stood at table and

    carefully began to pick over to my feets. You mind if I just  putting back on tiging pumps?’

    No, said Doctor Copeland. t ’

    to cut me off a fee meat and fry it for myself.’

    Doctor Copeland folloia ockinged feet, taking do from to speak once and then composed his lips again.

    So you and your ive plan, he said finally.

    quot;ts right.’

    Doctor Copeland jerked at ried to poptuiN mis.  i？

    ts again. Do you intend to plan for children?’

    Portia did not look at er from t;t seem to me to depend entirely upon God.’

    t say anytia left to cook on tove and sat silently . But  sleeping; noremor ifling room. In tness top of t t said to eaconous ticking he word chil-dren, chil-dren, said over and over.

    ing one of treet  Copeland, t for ted one day, and than a dozen named for him.

    But all old and explained and exed. You cannot do t be, ell t is

    not more c more c  to. ell t came to be a sort of angry poem w.

    udied and kne of any ne ribute to ients  doctor in too even tell times a week. Madyben and Benny Mae.

    t . Only one.

    All of  there was a reason for his working.

    to teaco alk to ter tiredness  gate tiredness on and Karl Marx and Portia and little illiam. too.

    Portia took tove and stirred ter a while.

    Doctor Copeland cleared  and spat into a ter and rough. Yes?’

    Less us quit ther.’

    e  quarreling, said Doctor Copel