“Not really?”
“Yes, really. And right away. Tonight. Is your mind capable of taking all that in, or must I spell it out for you. You seem dazed.”
This was not exactly the reception he had expected for his news.
“I’m more than dazed. I’m shocked,” said Clive. He turned again to Rose-Ann. “Tell me—when did this—when did you children decide on this rash deed?”
“This afternoon,” said Rose-Ann. “It is rash, isn’t it? Do you really think we shouldn’t?”
Felix made an impatient movement. What difference did it make what Clive Bangs thought?
“Come in by the fire,” said Clive. “You—you bewilder me, you two.”
He put a hand, with some kind of vague paternal gesture, on Rose-Ann’s shoulder. “In here”—and he showed them into a room where a coal fire glowed in an open Franklin stove. He arranged three big chairs. “Sit there.... Bad weather outdoors.”
“No,” said Rose-Ann, “it’s beautiful! It’s snowing....”
“I’ll get you something warm to drink,” and Clive left them.