“But isn’t it rather early to be in bed? Perhaps you’re not well.”
“I’m quite well.” He spoke stubbornly, looking aside and trying to keep the tears back. “I’m quite well; it’s she who pretends I isn’t.”
“She! Ah, I understand. Poor old boy, never mind.”
She drew him against her breast and kissed him. He thought she would release him; but still she held him. He could feel the beating of her heart and the slow movement of her breath. He didn’t want her to let him go; but why did she still hold him? Shyly he raised his eyes.
“Won’t you smile?” she said. “I’d like to see what you look like. And now tell me, what made you come here?”
“I heard you,” he whispered. “Please let me stay.”
She glanced back at the man; he sat where she had left him, by the piano, watching. She rather liked to make him jealous. Turning to the child, she lowered her voice, “You’ll catch cold if you don’t get back to bed and I’ll be blamed for it. If I come with you, will that be as good as if I let you stay?”
“Oh, better.”
“Then kiss me.”
As she rose from her knees she gathered him in her arms. The man left his seat to follow. She paused in the doorway, gazing across her shoulder. “No, Hal, it’s a time when you’re not wanted.”