“No, I wouldn’t,” Bruce Robertson said in a low voice. “Please don’t pass this on, but there’s amaurotic idiocy in my hereditary background. The only woman who’d ever marry me would be a sterile one. I doubt that I’ll ever get married, but I certainly won’t ever have kids. This—this is my only chance.”
“Oh, darling,” Marian sobbed happily in Raley’s arms. “It will work. It really will work!”
“All I ask,” the book illustrator went on uncertainly, “is the privilege of coming here once in a while, to kind of see Lisa and see what’s going on with her.”
“Once in a while!” Raley roared. “You can come every night. After all, you’ll be like a member of the family. Like a member of the family? You’ll be a member of the family; man, you’ll be the family!”