“No, I’ve never thought of it.”
“You ought to.”
“Why?”
“Because four years makes a lot of difference in a woman. You’ll look still young when I’m turning forty.”
“Pooh!”
She ignored my attempt to turn from the topic. “If—if we should ever do anything rash, people would say that I was a scheming woman; that I’d taken advantage of you; that, being the elder, I ought to have known better.”
The idea of Vi leading me astray was so supremely ridiculous that I laughed outright. Dorrie stirred, and gazed up in my face. “Dear Dante!” she muttered, and sank back again.
“Her father will be waiting for the cable,” said Vi.
I wondered if this was the kind of conversation my father and mother had carried on all those years ago when they ran away. I felt that if my arms were only free to place about her, all would be well.
“We shall have to tell him, Vi,” I whispered.