If Burr did not want to hold her before, he now itches to have her back. Hamilton looks very becoming, with her cradled against his shoulder, but not half so becoming as she.

"Yes, I am afraid I was distracted, but it is good news, what you were able to accomplish." And he is proud, but once again Burr will be confined for his health and child, in the traditional role of omega, while Hamilton marches out for honor and glory. Burr itches to distinguish himself, worries that his chances are slowly diminishing, that every day he is more concretely affixed to his current role as mother and husband.

"I should like to walk again--oh, don't look at me like that! I know very well I cannot get out of bed, but I should like still to move around some, to take little Theodosia to meet everyone, more proper an introduction than I am sure you have given. It is not right that I did all the work yet no one has paid me the compliment of a visit--" of course, Burr would hate to be visited here very much, yet still he wishes to end his isolation. He is not so frail to not see anyone.

"You could carry me, could you not?"