She went to see how May was getting on, and in company they undressed, as they used to undress before Jenny went on the stage. Soon both of them in long white nightgowns, each with a golden candle, pattered in once more to marvel at young Frank.
"Oh, I must have him in bed with me, May."
"Well, why don't you?"
Carefully they lifted him, and, warm with sun-dyed sleep, laid him in Jenny's cool bed.
"Light the nightlight, there's a love," said Jenny. "Good night."
"Good night," whispered May, fading like a ghost through the black doorway, leaving the tall room to Jenny and Frank. Tree shadows, conjured by the moon, waved on the walls, but very faintly, for the nightlight burned with steady flame in the opalescent saucer. Jenny settled herself to think what she should say to Maurice next morning. But soon she forgot all about Maurice, and "I'd rather like to have a little girl," was her last thought before she went dreaming.
Chapter XLVIII: Carni Vale
JENNY woke up the next morning in a gray land of mist. A sea-fog had come in to obliterate Trewinnard and even the sparkling month of June, creating a new and impalpable world, a strange undated season. Above the elm trees and the hill-tops the fog floated and swayed in vaporous eddies. Jenny's first impulse was to postpone the meeting on the cliffs, and yet the day somehow suited the enterprise. Shrouded fittingly, she would face whatever ghosts Maurice had power to raise.
"I'm going for a walk," she told May, "by myself. I want to tell Maurice not to hang about here any more because it gets on my nerves."
"I'll look after Frank when you're gone," said May.