She hesitated:
“We—we sold the old bed, you know.”
He helped her without another word. Together in silence they put George’s bed up alongside her own, and in silence when it was done René left her. He went to his room and sat, staring unseeing at the five privet bushes and the old bicycle shed.
Presently she came to him and sat on his bed, and gazed at him like a mournful, shy little bird.
“You mustn’t make it hard for us, René.”
“I—I thought I was making it easy.”
“His brothers won’t see him.”
“Why not?”
“They won’t. They’re hard people, the Fourmys. They can’t forget the past. They say they won’t help me any more if I let him stay, and not a penny will they leave me.”