"Practising good judgement."

[ He imitates her voice. ]

Avoiding potential misery.

[ He raises his arms, dismissing her with a derisive flick of his wrists. ]

DEATH ought to have made you bold; but you're meek. What does any of that matter?

I'm talking about a baby. A child - your child - suckling at your breast; smiling back at you; reaching out to you with open arms.

You'll feel its quickening life within you, moving in your womb--

[ A beat ]

Er, well. Not womb, not exactly...