“Yes, dear.”
“Isn’t it too bad not to believe in God and Heaven and angels and Ouija boards? Then I could pretend that I could see him again, and that he would tell me. Derry believed all that kind of thing, but I never believed in anything but Derry—and now he’s gone. What time is it?”
“A minute or so to twelve, by this clock.”
“He didn’t keep his word, either, did he? He said not later than twelve—promised! Think of Derry breaking a promise——”
“Anne—Anne——”
“Oh, I know—of course he’s dead, but still—he was Derry. The wind’s worse, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“When it pounces like that, you can see the flames flatten out; it comes down the chimney. Look—it’s burning lower. I’m cold—I’m cold——”
“I’ll get more wood. Is it in the hall?”
“No, let it burn out. It’s late; you must go, mustn’t you? I don’t want you to go—there’s too much wind. It sounds as though it were alive—it sounds as though it were the only thing alive in the world—listen——”