III
“My Girl the Fairies Brought!” whispered Nathan, after a time. “I never want to think of her as coming from anywhere else. There still are fairies.”
Madelaine arose at the end of a half-hour, despite her husband’s protest.
“I’m only going above stairs to get an envelope, dear. It holds two pieces of brown mapping with a strip of newspaper pasted upon them. I want you to take them to an art store when you go down to the office in the morning. Have the slip of news-print remapped and put in a copper frame. It must hang over my writing desk—permanently.”
“Newsprint? Copper frame? What’s the idea?”
“I want my Rosary out in sight, where I can look upon it constantly.”
She rumpled his hair. Then she leaned over the back of the divan. Her delicate lips were very close. He did.