“Marry Miss Sabrina,” suggested Eve, with a sudden burst of wild laughter, in which Paul joined.
“They are all to go, are they? But you and I are not to go; is that your plan?” he went on.
“Yes.”
He kissed her. “Paul Tennant and his wife will take Cicely south themselves,” he said, stroking her hair caressingly. “It’s always braided so closely, Eve; how long is it when down?”
But she did not hear these whispered words; she drew herself away from him with passionate strength. “No, she must go with some one else; she can go with any one you please; we can have two nurses, instead of one. But you—you must not go; you must stay with me.”
“Why, Eve, I hardly know you! Why do you feel so about poor little Cicely? Why strike a person who’s down?”
“Oh, yes—down; that is what you all say. Yet she has had everything, even if she has lost it now; and some people go through all their lives without one single thing they really care for. She shall not rob me of this, I will not let her. I defy her; I defy her!”
“She shall go back to Romney,” said Paul. What these disagreements between the two women were about, he did not know. His idea was that he would marry Eve as soon as possible—within the next ten days; and then, after they were married, he would tell her that it was best that they should take Cicely south themselves. She would see the good sense of his decision, she would not dispute his judgment when once she was his wife; she could not have any real dislike for poor little Cicely, that was impossible.
Eve came back to him humbly enough. “I am afraid you do not like my interfering with your plans?” she said.
“You may interfere as much as you like,” answered Paul, smiling.