“But I can’t, I can’t be so far away. I ought to be here. She would like me to be here.”
“Eddie, dear . . . do be a good boy. Here comes your father.”
And his father came. Strangely, strangely old and worn he looked in the shabby alpaca coat. Edwin had never realised that he could be so pathetic. He smiled at Edwin, a smile that was unutterably painful. “Eddie . . . my boy,” he said, and kissed him, “I’m glad you’ve come. . . . She was anxious for you to come. . . .”
“Oh, father. . . .”
“We must all be brave, Eddie.” Again that terrible smile.
“Father, may I go and see her . . .?”
“The doctor says that nobody had better see her to-night.”
“Yes, Eddie, we must obey the doctor’s orders, dear,” said Aunt Laura.
“But you’ve seen her . . . you saw her this morning, didn’t you?”
“That was different,” said Aunt Laura. “I was up all night with her.”