Their house was wallpapered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and if Henry and Jane weren't eating, drinking tea or undressing one another, the pair of them could inevitably be found sprawled across their parralel couches by the fire, wiling away the hours with a book. The baby, whom the scan suggested was a girl, was temporarily christened Sprog and treated to long in-utero monologues by her father, extolling the virtues of this or that breed of chook or Austen novel or brand of tea leaves. Henry's wardrobe gained more and more patched elbows, checked shirts and sweater vests which Jane delighted in buttoning him out of, sometimes before he'd even left the house for work. Jane's illustration work continued at her office until she could no longer fit behind her desk, at which point she just stayed home and used her protruding belly as a work station.