“Gilbert’s been to a week-end party at Lucille Winter’s,” she said. “He’s—he’s in the kitchen. You’ve got to be very careful with him. He’s only a child.”
“All right!” Bill agreed, with the shadow of a smile. “I’ll take Gilbert back into the fold. But this—” His smile vanished as he glanced toward the dining room again. “This—”
“I’m sorry,” said Rose. “But—poor little Margie’s bringing Paul—a friend of hers, home to dinner to-night, and—” She paused a moment, then she looked resolutely up at Bill. “I thought she would like it,” she went on. “For her children—so that they’d remember—the things they’ve[Pg 396] forgotten. I’m sorry, but—” A sob choked her.
“Please,” she begged, “be very kind to Margie—and Gilbert—and Paul. I’ve got to go. I meant to stay, but—my Nina’s sick.”
She turned to go, but tears blinded her; she stumbled against the lintel. Bill’s hand touched her arm, the lightest touch, to guide her.
“I promise you,” he said, “that everything shall be just as you want it.”
She brushed her hand across her eyes and looked at him. And she thought she had never in her life seen anything like that look on his face.
“I want to help you,” he announced. “That’s what I’ve always wanted, since the first moment I saw you.”
Neither of them had another word to say, to spoil that moment. She ran back again to Nina, through the rain, and she thought she must sing, for joy and relief.
Everything was all right now, for Bill had come. She was so happy—so happy—just because Bill had come.[Pg 397]