“He may,” answered Cicely, looking at her companion for a moment with almost a solemn expression.
“Then give baby to me now, and let me go away—before he comes.”
Cicely glanced off over the water; they were standing on the low bank above the Sound. “He could not go north now, in the middle of the winter,” she answered, after a moment.
“In the early spring, then?”
“I don’t know; perhaps.”
Eve’s heart gave a bound. She was going to gain her point.
Having been brought up by a man, she had learned to do without the explanations, the details, which are dear to most feminine minds; so all she said was, “That’s agreed, then.” She was so happy that a bright flush rose in her cheeks, and her smile, as she spoke these last few words, was very sweet; those lips, which Miss Sabrina had thought so sullen, had other expressions.
Cicely looked at her. “You may marry too.”
Eve laughed. “There is no danger. To show you, to make you feel as secure as I do, I will tell you that there have been one or two—friends of Jack’s over there. Apparently I am not made of inflammable material.”
“When you are sullen—perhaps not. But when you are as you are now?”