Eve did not move.
After a while Cicely dried her eyes and rose; she woke Jack, and finished dressing him in silence; kneeling down, she began to put on his shoes.
The child rolled his little wooden horse over her shoulder. Then he called: “Old Eve! old Eve! Pum here, an’ det down; I want to roll de hortie on you, too.”
Eve obeyed; she took up the other little shoe.
“Oh, well,” said Cicely, her voice still choked with sobs, “we can’t help it, Eve—as long as we’ve got him between us; he’s a tie. We shall have to make the best of each other, I suppose.”
“May I go with you to Romney?” Eve asked, in a low tone.
“How can you want to go there?” demanded Cicely, her eyes beginning to flash again.
“I know.—But I don’t want to leave Jack and you. If you would take me—”
They said but a few words more. Yet it was all arranged; they would go to Romney; Paul was to know nothing of it.