able, I found London unbearable." His voice rose. "I found that I could not get on without the boy, Reesha." "And so what do you think of doing?" Nine years of marriage, eight of distaste, yet clearly she was avid for him to tell her that he wanted to take it up again—even for the sake of the boy. Avid to refuse to return to him; already tasting her refusal as she waited for his words. His words were: "Let me have him." "Well, of course that was only-I was just thinking in case-I really did n't know what else" "Quite so," said Barnaby. "May I not, then, actually be of some service?" "But you mean to keep him!" she cried harshly. "And you need n't think-" "I think nothing. I only hope for all that you will give up to me." At once she was mollified. Since he meant to take no advantage of mama's incautious revelation, since he was The rings smote the radiator sharply. actually willing to sue for some of "That is impossible." "I mean you see, our arrangement should be unchanged. I mean, the practical part." "I'm not thinking of the money." He waited for her to say what she was thinking of, then. Oliver "I thought," she said, "of going for three months to California. I wanted to leave him here.” "It 's too much," said mama, decisively. "Great big boy, so." "Of course," Tweet then pensively "Do you imagine that I don't love emerged with, "I have wanted to adopt my child?" He had folded his arms and now leaned on the table, staring at her. "I understand all about that," he said with deliberation. "Even so, he might be excessively in your way." Here he received an ally. Mrs. Crumb, tautly listening, head thrown well back, mouth drooping, cried: "Reesha, why don't you let his father have him, if you go to California, instead of leaving him here with us? Pounding around." Perceiving nothing of the enormous effect of this, mama pressed her point. "My part, I can't stand a big boy smashing around my house, with his mother gone. I'm too old. Best leave him with your with his father that long, Reesha." He took no advantage. He waited. Richmiel was not good at explaining, spoke with hesitations, lost her detachment. a child. Deeply. A little girl. Little girls are so much more-still, I should love to have Oliver here. Simply love it. I could take the whole care of him, Mama." "I know you," said mama, briefly and brutally. "Well, Cousin Leda and I together could," Tweet amended. "Could n't we, Cousin Leda?" Leda had retreated to that blueblack window, stood there, her back to the room, staring into the dark, with a manner of clinging to the pane like the infusoria. The hour gave her intolerable discomfort. It was as if the presence of Barnaby, augmenting her, had augmented also her power to suffer. Now she turned and met his eyes. He said gravely: "Oliver told me first thing about you." He seemed curiously insensible to the slight of this to the family. By this released from her silence, Leda said to him: "Oliver is wonderful. Sensitive beyond words." She was all but saying that now everything would depend on Oliver's upbringing, and this the father caught and assented to. "I know," he said. Momentarily their eyes met, then went to Richmiel. Over California Richmiel's mind, bright butterfly, was hovering. "The winter here is very hard on me," she plaintively said. "I thought if I could get out somewhere in the sun for three months-" She warmed her hands again. "Yes, an excellent idea," Barnaby agreed. "And hotels are not the place for children." He was too wise to press her. She was squirrel-like. Wait for her, and she might hop to your hand. "You would take him to Switzerland?" "I have lecture engagements which would make that imperative." "And when I was ready, you would bring him back here?" "If you insist, certainly. But I hope -would it be possible, Reesha, for me to have him a part of every year? Who knows, you might wish to go to California every winter." This she considered, came finally to. "Of course I must not think only of myself. If by my sacrifice Oliver had a bit of Europe now and then-" "Precisely," said Barnaby. He was not scrupulous about her processes if only she arrived. He was not even amused when she deferred to Mrs. Crumb. "Mama, do you think I would be right?" "Mercy, yes," said mama. "Let him go." "Tweet-" Her look dared Tweet to dissent. "How would it be to let Oliver decide?" Tweet asked wickedly. Richmiel swept it aside. "Absurd!" They all knew why. They forgot Pearl, who now said: "It would be lovely to have a little child around the house here." sighed. She knew an ambiguous bodily satisfaction in admitting her fondness for little children. She glanced at Barnaby. She (Being the end of the second part of "Faint Perfume.") |