“You’re going?”
“Yes.”
“Because he’s coming?”
“Partly.”
Her eyes were blinded with tears; she sank against the wall in a fit of sobbing. “Oh, I wish you could take me—I wish you could take me!” she cried.
I comforted her, telling her to be brave, reminding her of her promise to come to me if they used pressure. She dabbed her eyes. “You and I’ve always stood together, little sister; you mustn’t be afraid,” I told her.
I carried my bags downstairs into the hall. The Snow Lady met me.
“What’s this? You’re going?” Her voice reflected dismay and bewilderment.
“Yes, going.”
“But not for long! You’ll be back shortly?”