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"I wouldn't like you to get a bad reputation."
"That ship has sailed. I've already been shunned by London society."
"I know." He had telephoned Ethel from Waterloo station, and she had told him about Daisy's separation from Boy and given him the address of the flat.
"We must do something about contraception," he said. "I'll get some rubber johnnies. But you might want to get fixed up with a device. What do you think?"
"You want to make sure I don't get pregnant?" she said.
There was a note of sadness in her voice, she realized, and he heard it. "Don't get me wrong," he said. He raised himself on his elbow. "I'm illegitimate. I was told lies about my parentage, and when I found out the truth it was a terrible shock." His voice shook a little with emotion. "I'll never put my children through that. Never."
"We wouldn't have to lie to them."
"Would we tell them that we're not married? That in fact you're married to someone else?"
"I don't see why not."
"Think how they would be teased at school."
She was not convinced, but clearly the issue was a profound one for him. "So, what's your plan?" she said.
"I want us to have children. But not until we're married. To each other."
"I get that," she said. "So . . ."
"We have to wait."
Men were slow to pick up hints. "I'm not much of a girl for tradition," she said. "But, still, there are some things . . ."
At last he saw what she was getting at. "Oh! Okay. Just a minute." He knelt upright on the bed. "Daisy, dear--"
She burst out laughing. He looked comical, in full uniform with his limp dick hanging out of his fly. "Can I take a photo of you like that?" she said.
He looked down and saw what she meant. "Oh, sorry."
"No--don't you dare put it away! Stay just as you are, and say what you were going to say."
He grinned. "Daisy, dear, will you be my wife?"
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"In a heartbeat," she said.
They lay down again, embracing.
Soon the novelty of his odor wore off. They got into the shower together. She soaped him all over, taking merry pleasure in his embarrassment when she washed his most intimate places. She put shampoo on his hair and scrubbed his grimy feet with a brush.
When he was clean he insisted on washing her, but he had only got as far as her breasts when they had to make love again. They did it standing in the shower with the hot water coursing down their bodies. Clearly he had momentarily forgotten his aversion to illegitimate pregnancy, and she did not care.
Afterward he stood at her mirror shaving. She wrapped a large towel around herself and sat on the lid of the toilet, watching him. He asked: "How long will it take you to get divorced?"
"I don't know. I'd better speak to Boy."
"Not today, though. I want you to myself all day."
"When will you go to see your parents?"
"Tomorrow, maybe."
