[ Bastien snickers; fire of my loins could just as easily be a venereal disease.

But they move on to something a little more serious quickly enough, and he hums in understanding. ]

I was jealous, when you were gone—I was unhappy about everything I could find to be unhappy about, you know. But I was jealous that other people had words for it. Simple ones. Husband. Widow.

I can be such a peasant,

[ is a joke. Byerly, after all, is the one who’s brought labels up. ]