‘It is not good for you,’ she repeated very softly.
He lifted the hand to his lips and kissed it reverently.
‘No,’ he said, ‘it is not good for me. I will go.’
[p 140]
]CHAPTER XIII
DOT GOES BABY-LIFTING
‘Me do you leave aghast
With the memories we amassed?’
Dot had picked up a book in morocco covers. It was lying on the sitting room table with a dozen others and she took it at random. The little mother was persisting in bringing the conversation round to the baby this evening, for the new fear in her heart would not allow her to let things take their own course any longer. She dwelt on his hair, the funny little habit he had of drawing in his lips, the dimple that dented one little cheek just below the left eye.
So Dot took up a book to show she was too much occupied for conversation, but her lips [p 141] ]were trembling. They had hitherto eschewed this subject entirely.
The book might easily have been any of the twelve others, but it happened to be Browning. She turned over the leaves, then, as that mechanical action did not quieten the little mother, she was forced to read.
And the very words Larrie had marked for her once quite years ago when they had only been engaged and used to play at quarreling! It was a finger nail mark and ran along one whole verse.