“It seems to me that you do have him; it’s a complete possession,” answered Ferdie, laughing; “I’ve scarcely been able to touch the youngster since I came.”
“I mean that I want him to live with me, as though he were my own child; I would bring him up with all possible care.”
“Have you made a vow, then, never to marry?” Ferdie demanded, looking at her with a merry gleam in his eyes.
“Should you object—if Cicely were willing to give him to me?” Eve continued, a slight haughtiness in her manner alone replying to his remark.
“I suppose I couldn’t, though I’m fond of the little chap.” (“Fond!” Eve thought. She looked at him, with parted lips, in suspense.) “But I can’t imagine Cicely’s consenting,” Ferdie went on; “she is devoted to the child.”
“Not so much as she is to you.”
“Do you want me to urge her to give him to you?”
“Yes,” Eve answered.
“Why do you want him? For your own pleasure?”
Eve hesitated a moment. “Partly.”