“Didn't you know that?”
“No, I didn't know.”
She pressed my hand silently.
“God help you, child, what are we to do now?” “What you will. Perhaps you are not going away just yet; I will be happy as long as you are here.”
“No, Eva.”
“Yes, yes—only as long as you are here.”
She looked forsaken, kept pressing my hand.
“No, Eva. Go—never any more!”
Nights pass and days come—three days already since this last talk. Eva comes by with a load. How much wood has that child carried home from the forest this summer alone?