"Mustn't," was all she could repeat and not weep her words.
"Won't—I—do?"
"It's—mamma."
"What?"
"Her."
"Her what, my little white buttonhole carnation?"
"You see—I—She's all alone."
"You adorable, she's got a brand-new husky husband."
"No—you don't—understand."
Then, on a thunderclap of inspiration, hitting his knee: