"You know why you stayed, Steven."
He understood. He remembered. The dull red of his face flushed with
the shock of the memory.
"Do I?" he said.
"I made you."
His flush darkened. But he gave no other sign of having heard her.
"I don't know why I'm staying now."
He rose and looked at his watch.
"I must be going home," he said.
He turned at the threshold.
"I forgot to give you Mary's message. She sent her love and she wants
to know when you're coming again to see the babies."
"Oh--some day soon."
"You must make it very soon or they won't be babies any more. She's
dying to show them to you."
"She showed them to me the other day."
"She says it's ages since you've been. And if she says it is she
thinks it is."
Gwenda was silent.
"I'm coming all right, tell her."
"Well, but what day? We'd better fix it. Don't come on a Tuesday or a
Friday, I'll be out."
"I must come when I can."
LX
She went on a Tuesday.
She had had tea with her father first. Meal-time had become sacred to
the Vicar and he hated her to be away for any one of them.
She walked the four miles, going across the moor under Karva and
loitering by the way, and it was past six before she reached Morfe.
She was shown into the room that was once Rowcliffe's study. It had
been Mary's drawing-room ever since last year when the second child
was born and they turned the big room over the dining-room into a
day nursery.
Pages:
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348