“But it isn’t—polite,” she said, with another sob.
“Yes, it is, Marty. I don’t mind.”
“Don’t you really and truly mind, daddy?” she asked, turning to him.
“Not a bit, Marty. It’s quite natural.”
She sat up and flung her arms around his neck, burying her head on his shoulder. She was drenched in tears. Even her little hands were damp.
“Oh, I do miss mother!” she whispered. “I do miss her, daddy! I don’t want to be unpolite, but I do miss mother so!”
He held her tight, in despair.
“I know, Marty, I know; but you’ll be going back to her soon, dear.”
“Then I’ll miss you,” she said. “All the t-time I’ll be going away and m-missing you both![Pg 542]”
He was frightened to feel her tremble so. He picked her up and carried her into the bathroom. Her face was stained with tears, her eyes were heavy, her body was shaken with sobs.