“Oh, I had all Lulu’s feeling at first, of course. But it died as hers did. You see this fan. You have often commented on how well I’ve kept it all these years—I’ve mended it from month to month with feathers from my own wings. The color is becoming to me—and Frank likes me to carry a fan. He says that it makes him think of a country called Spain that he always wanted to visit when he was a youth.”
“And you, Clara?” Julia asked gently.
“Oh, I went through,” Clara replied, “just what Lulu and Chiquita did. Then, one day, I said to myself, ‘What’s the use of weeping over a dead thing?’ I made my wings into wall-decorations. You’re right about Honey, Lulu.” For a moment there was a shade of conscious coquetry in Clara’s voice. “I know that it gives Pete a feeling of satisfaction—I don’t exactly know why (unless it’s a sense of having conquered)—to see my wings tacked up on his bedroom walls.”
Peachy did not wait for Julia to put the question to her. “As soon as I could move, after they freed us from the Clubhouse, I threw mine into the sea. I knew I should go mad if I kept them where I could see them every day. Just to look at them was like a sharp knife going through my heart. One night, while Ralph was asleep, I crawled out of the house on my hands and knees, dragging them after me. I crept down to the beach and threw them into the water. They did not sink—they floated. I stayed until they drifted out of sight. The moon was up. It shone on them. Oh, the glorious blue of them—and the glitter—the—the—.” But Peachy could not go on.
“What did you do with yours, Julia?” Lulu asked at last.
“I kept them until last night,” Julia answered.
“Among the ship’s stuff was a beautiful carved chest. It was packed with linen. Billy said it was some earth-girl’s wedding outfit. I took everything out of the chest and put my wings in it. Folded carefully, they just fitted. I used to brood over them every night before I went to bed. Oh, they were wonderful in the dark—as if the chest were full of white fire. Many times I’ve waked up in the middle of the night and gone to look at them. I don’t know why, but I had to do it. After a while, it hurt me so much that I made up my mind to lock the chest forever; for I always wept. I could not help it.”
Julia wept now. The tears poured down her cheeks. But she went on.
“After yesterday’s talk, I thought this situation over for a long time. Then I went to the chest, took out my wings, brought them downstairs and—and—and—.”
“What?” somebody whispered.