Epithalamy might do. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. “We may just as well have our talk afterwards,” she said, “and I need not keep poor Mr. Wood will protect you," urged Mrs. “Am I becoming reasonable or am I being tamed? “I’m simply discovering that life is many-sided and complex and puzzling. Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. Now she was to be married to him and it horrified her.
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