Here are the sketches she made. You can take the book away with you and look at them at your leisure.
SIMON. It is a little curious that she has never spoken to me of that holiday. She tells me everything.
MRS. MORLAND. No, that isn’t curious, it is just that the island has faded from her memory. I should be troubled if she began to recall it. Well, Simon, we felt we had to tell you. That is all we know, I am sure it is all we shall ever know. What are you going to do?
SIMON. What do you think!
(He mounts the chair again, and knocks triumphantly. A happy tapping replies.)
You heard? That means it’s all right. You’ll see how she’ll come tearing down to us!
MRS. MORLAND (kissing him). You dear boy, you will see how I shall go tearing up to her. (She goes off.)
SIMON. I do love Mary Rose, sir.
MR. MORLAND. So do we, Simon. I suppose that made us love her a little more than other daughters are loved. Well, it is dead and done with, and it doesn’t disturb me now at all. I hope you won’t let it disturb you.
SIMON (undisturbed). Rather not. (Disturbed.) I say, I wonder whether I have noticed her listening for a sound?