"
"Oh, I didn't hear anything more," said the child, "because I remembered
that I shouldn't listen, and I came out of the closet. Mother was
standing by the bed, and Eileen was lying on the bed with her hands over
her eyes; and I didn't know she had been crying until I said: 'Please
excuse me for listening,' and she sat up very quickly, and I saw her
face was flushed and her eyes wet. . . . Isn't it possible for you to
marry anybody, Uncle Philip?"
"No, Drina."
"Not even if Eileen would marry you?"
"No."
"Why?"
"You could not understand, dear. Even your mother cannot quite
understand. So we won't ever speak of it again, Drina."
The child balanced a bonbon between thumb and forefinger, considering it
very gravely.
"I know something that mother does not," she said. And as he betrayed no
curiosity:
"Eileen _is_ in love. I heard her say so."
He straightened up sharply, turning to look at her.
"I was sleeping with her. I was still awake, and I heard her say: 'I
_do_ love you--I _do_ love you.
Pages:
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647