For three years, the young attorney had been taking his brief vacations at a country inn. The last time he’d finally managed an affair with the innkeeper’s daughter.
When it was finally time for his annual vacation, he headed to the inn with hopes of continuing where he left off.
After he arrived, he dragged his suitcase up the stairs of the inn, then stopped short. There sat his lover next to his door — with an infant on her lap!
“Brittany, why didn’t you write when you learned you were pregnant?” he cried. “I would have rushed up here, we could have gotten married, and the baby would have my name!”
“Well,” she said, “when my folks found out about my condition, we sat up all night talkin’ and talkin’, and finally decided it would be better to have a bastard in the family than a lawyer.”